


a lover's omen

by jenhyung



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Attempt at Humor, Character Study, Fluff, Happy Ending, Immortality, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong, Minor Na Jaemin/Park Jisung, Time Shenanigans, Time Skips, Time Travel, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 04:38:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20285539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenhyung/pseuds/jenhyung
Summary: Time stops at the speed of light. - Jeno/Renjun





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slythos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slythos/gifts).

> happy belated birthday ara! ♡ this is long overdue, and i think i've gone so far off course since i last talked to you about this, but - here it is! i hope you like it anyway (especially all of the little easter eggs i tried to fit in here ;;) ♡ 
> 
> **warnings**: mentions about time, worrying, a lot of worrying
> 
> (if you're sensitive to topics about time and losing time, this might not be the best fic to read - especially before bed ;; i've lost many nights over it ;;)

**1832**

“Pardon me.”

He steps aside automatically.

“Thank you,” he’s told.

Before he can turn to look, Doyoung is calling for him, “Come along, Jeno.”

He nods, and the memory is set aside.

+

**1123**

Jeno lands in a Royal Palace.

It’s a fancy one, terribly large and far too immense for him to explore in just a single night. There isn’t anything about its winding halls and hundreds of rooms that strikes as familiar, but he struts though it as if he knows the place like the back of his hand. He isn’t entirely sure how he’s going to find what he’s looking for, but he supposes it’s not a fact he’s too bothered with at the moment–he’s just worried the sound of his robes crinkling under him will alert someone of his presence.

“Not here,” he mutters, after peeking into an empty room. The floor is woven tightly with rice-straws, and Jeno wonders briefly how it would feel under his feet. Alas, he has no time to think of such luxuries.

He checks down three more hallways and follows its turns, but there isn’t much promise to the end of his mission. Hastily, he heads down left and out into an adjacent garden, nearly tripping over his robes as he goes. He looks down to inwardly curse at the long robes of crystal blue, questioning the legitimacy of this garb Donghyuck insisted to put him in.

Distracted by the rustling of taffeta, Jeno fails to notice that his presence in the garden is met with another.

“Who are you, outsider?”

Jeno freezes. Some small part of his brain tells him that if he doesn’t move–doesn’t breathe–he’d be able to blend into the background. And for a moment, he believes it to be true, that maybe he could be so incredible still for long enough to have Donghyuck call the game to be over and Portal him out of here.

“Speak! Or I will have you reported to the proper authorities!”

Jeno raises his hands in the air, palms forward. In all his years of Portaling, this has been the first of such a direct confrontation. It’s also the first time he’s gotten caught, by a prince-like stranger, no less.

The boy that stands before him, however, has a frame that fails to meet the ferocity of his words. He looked young, but he sounded far older than Jeno thought. He’s dressed in purple robes over a white undershirt with long sleeves, and his trim waist is accentuated by a belt of black silk. On the top of his head is a tall, traditional-looking hat, one Jeno’s seen on only the painted pictures he’s managed to catch a glimpse of earlier.

There’s a sickly feeling in Jeno’s stomach.

Butterflies, perhaps.

“Who are you?” The boy narrows his eyes, but his hands remain by his sides. There’s a sword by his belt, Jeno notes, by it’s not reached for. He clears his throat, and Jeno’s eyes flit towards his face once more, “I know you not from the Royal Palace and I will not ask again, outsider.”

Jeno licks his lips, thinking quick, “I’m new here.”

The boy frowns, “Pardon?”

_Crap_. Jeno’d forgotten about issues around colloquial terms, “I mean–I–am not from the palace.” For good measure, he adds, “Your Highness.”

The boy’s frown deepens, “Clearly.” He steps closer, calculative, “If you were, you would know that I am not the prince.”

Jeno eats the rock in his throat, “Then who are you?”

“A question you have yet to answer.”

Jeno feels his arms tire, but decides against lowering them. They reach an impasse then, eyeing the other cautiously. Jeno quickly maps the boy’s features into his memory, observes the gold necklace hanging loose around his neck, a jade pendant at the end of it, makes a note of the discoloration on the back of his right hand, alike a birthmark of some sort.

He tilts his chin up, unamused by Jeno’s attention, “Well?”

“You won’t believe me even if I told you.”

The boy despises that even more, “Try me, outsider.”

Jeno sucks in a deep breath, weighs his choices. He _could _tell this unsuspecting boy that he’s from the future–or the past, both ways work–and risk getting into trouble. Or, he could try and make a run for it–as far as he can to a place secluded enough for him to catch his breath, for him to gather enough energy and Portal his way back.

“If you are considering your chances of escaping,” the boy intones, “I would highly suggest against it.”

And for some reason, Jeno trusts that more than his instincts to spin on his heels for the nearest exit. He answers unhurriedly, “My name is Jeno.”

“I did not ask for your name, I asked for who you are.”

“This is who I am.” Jeno plays with the line, “Lee Jeno.”

The boy gives him a dirty look, but it clears soon after. He approaches Jeno, speaking lowly, “Alright, then. Tell me, Lee Jeno, what is your business in the Royal Palace? I know you do not belong here and I know you do not know why you are here.”

Jeno stands straighter when the boy draws close, pulling himself to his full height to gain at least a couple of inches. He rolls his shoulders back, speaking with confidence, “Actually, I’m here looking for a friend.”

“A friend?” Jeno nods. The boy is incredulous, “In the Royal Palace?”

“Yes.”

Jeno hopes there aren’t any more questions to it because he really can’t explain how he’s in fact playing a game of hide-and-seek through the Portals with Donghyuck. It’s a dangerous game, he knows–everyone knows–but there are only an infinite number of ways Travelers are allowed to kill time; plus, if Donghyuck had stuck to the preestablished rules of keeping the time jumps within the decade before and after the one they started in, Jeno wouldn’t be stuck in this historical mess.

“Are you lying to me?”

Other than the blatant gray areas he’s avoiding, Jeno’s answer is sincere, “No.”

“What is the name of your friend?”

Jeno looks to the moon, “Haechan.”

Again, not entirely a lie. Donghyuck did use that as an alias every so often.

“I have never heard that name.” The boy is an arm’s length away now, and Jeno worries that the lack of distance is going to cause him to slip-up. Despite that gnawing worry, he’s continued to be interrogated, “Is he a guard? A scholar? A friend of the Prince?”

“I don’t–know.”

The boy’s doubt heightens, rounding on Jeno now, “How could you not? Is he not your friend? Or are you lying?”

Jeno runs out of words. By some stroke of heaven’s luck, his attention is drawn to the messenger bag slung across the boy’s chest, “Where are you going?”

Affronted, “That is none of your business.”

“Are _you _sneaking around?” Jeno doesn’t know what he’s saying, but he’ll say whatever he has to to get out of here, “I should be the one reporting you to the guards, shouldn’t I?”

Fear, Jeno concludes, is what colors the boy’s face first. Then incredulity, “You dare report a prince?”

Jeno balks, “You just said you weren’t a prince!”

“You believe everything you are told, outsider?” The Prince scoffs, “It was a test and you have failed–you are not of the Royal Palace and I will have you reported–”

“Sure,” Jeno says, with courage. He’s been around Donghyuck enough to learn the importance of confidence when talking a way out of trouble, _fake it ‘til you make it_. The Prince glares at his interruption, “And how will you explain running off in the middle of the night? Or–or whatever it is you’re doing?”

That seems to baffle the Prince–or whoever he says he is and isn’t–and Jeno prays to be let off. The Prince shakes his head, “I am no prince.”

“But you _just _said–”

“I _am _the Prince, but I cannot be.”

Jeno does a double-take, “Why not?”

“It is not something I am at the liberty of discussing with an outsider.” He tugs at his messenger bag, “I must go.”

_So, you’re leaving? _Jeno wants to ask, but thinks better of it. He doesn’t have the time to satiate his unfathomable curiosities, not for someone he knows not the name of. Instead, he hears himself say, “So must I.”

“But you do not belong here, I must alert the guards of your trespass.”

“I didn’t mean to trespass,” Jeno says, limiting his exasperation, lest he infuriates the not-Prince. He hurries to promise, “If you let me go, I’ll never come back here. I’ll leave immediately.”

The Prince doesn’t budge, “How do I know you are to be trusted?”

“I won’t tell anyone I saw you trying to leave.”

It’s enough to capture the Prince’s attention, “Are you threatening me?”

“No, _no_.” Jeno stretches out placatingly, but it only makes the Prince step back, hand flying to the grip of his sword, “Wait–I don’t even know who you are! Prince or not, I wouldn’t do that! I just–” he swallows thickly, forces himself not to look at the Prince’s blade, “I just want to go home. I have to get back to my family.”

The Prince wavers, “Your family?”

“Yes,” Jeno’s heartrate slows when the Prince’s grip around his sword loosens. “I can’t stay here.”

“Where are they?”

Jeno stops trying, “In another time.”

The Prince pales, “What?”

“They live in another time.” Jeno lowers his arms, “I told you–I’m not from here.”

In the smallest breath, “Liar.”

“I’m not a lying–”

Against his thigh, under layers and layers of fabric, he feels his pocketwatch buzz twice, signaling its readiness to open another Portal. It also means Donghyuck’s given up on hiding; a full half hour must have already passed. He would sigh in relief, no longer needing Donghyuck to Portal him back, but he’s still under hostile scrutiny. All he needs to do is to get out of his garden and ditch this–this _Prince_–because if he isn’t back within that five-minute grace period, Donghyuck is going to have to report it to Doyoung and then the _entire _family would be out looking for him.

“I have to go.”

The Prince stares, “What?”

Jeno ignores him, frantically digging through the layers of his robes for his pocketwatch. The Prince watches, aghast, but he can’t afford to be concerned by it. He finds it stuffed in the pocket of his linen pants, pulling it free. Swiftly, he unlocks it and turns the dial for his return. The air almost literally tightens then, and Jeno feels the energy around him shift into static. 

“What is that?” The Prince asks, “What are you doing?”

Jeno checks the coordinates for Donghyuck’s pocketwatch, entering in the string of alphanumeric digits; it’s more accurate than jumping back to where he’d come from, knowing that wherever Donghyuck is waiting for him now is where he has to be.

He pulls enough energy from his core for a single jump, “You won’t remember this, but please–keep it a secret.”

Portaling in front of a Normal isn’t forbidden, but Doyoung’s told him the risk of doing so–in a one in a million chance, Normals feel the aftereffect of witnessing a Traveler Portal, leaving them in a limbo of believing their encounter with a Traveler were real, or if it were something they completely made up themselves.

Jeno, however, doesn’t have a choice now.

The Prince turns his head sharply, “What? Why?”

“You just have to,” Jeno urges. He should hit the button and leave before he’s here too long, but his hands aren’t listening to his commands, “Don’t worry–you won’t remember me.”

The Prince is unsatisfied by this, “You say I will not remember. Why?

Jeno pauses where his thumb hovers over the dial, suddenly enthralled by the wideness of the boy’s eyes and the concern he sees in them. He still doesn’t make a move for his sword, even though Jeno’s pretty sure it’s a sight scary enough to see–with the energy humming in his chest, he must be emitting sparks by now.

Did he trust that Jeno wouldn’t hurt him? That couldn’t be possible–he doesn’t know Jeno, he didn’t even want to let Jeno leave just a mere five minutes ago.

For reasons he has yet to understand, Jeno wants to stay and explain everything, he wants to stay and ask, _Why can’t you be a Prince?_ but the visualization of Doyoung frantically jumping through Portals to find him is enough to have him reconsider the thought. He wouldn’t know what to do if Doyoung were to show up right now, just to drag him back in time.

“If I can–I’ll come back and explain everything to you.”

“Come back?” The Prince baffles at his subpar parting remark, “Explain what?”

“I’m sorry, but I really do have to go now.”

“Where are you going?” The Prince raises a hand, “Wait, Lee Jeno–”

Jeno expects the tender jolt of lightening that courses through his veins when he hits the dial, but he still winces anyway. The Prince’s bewildered expression is the last thing his mind registers before he’s hurtled painlessly through the Portal and back to where he’d left Donghyuck–in the middle of their apartment.

**2019**

The obnoxiously large, framed photograph of his family hanging over the wall has never been so welcoming.

“Holy shit.” He hears this exactly the moment he finds his feet on steady ground once more. Donghyuck is charging towards him, “Three minutes! You’re_ three _minutes late! Are you insane? What the hell took you so long?”

Jeno looks down, exhaling loudly when he sees that he’s returned to his knitted, mustard-yellow sweater and his comfiest pair of dark washed denim jeans. The robes are gone. He stumbles to fall back onto their leather couch, still catching his breath.

“I almost rang Doyoung _and _Taeyong,” Donghyuck groans. He paces in front of Jeno, steam practically coming out of his ears, “We agreed on five minutes to Portal back to the starting point after our energy restores. Anything later means we need help, Jeno! I thought you were stuck!”

“I_ did_ need help,” Jeno says. He holds his pocketwatch close to his chest, “What century did you send me to, Hyuck, I almost had my head cut off with a board sword by some boy in a purple dress!”

Donghyuck whirls around, “What?”

“Robes,” Jeno corrects. “He was in a purple robe and he had a funky hat.”

“Those are some good descriptors you’ve got there, hey.” Donghyuck snorts derisively, “We’ve been studying history for ages and you can’t even put any of it to good use.”

“It was _dark_!”

“What happened? Did he let you go?” Donghyuck’s expression clouds when Jeno shakes his head, “How did you get out of there?”

Jeno twirls the chain of his pocketwatch neatly and slides it back into his pocket, resting against his thigh once more, “I Portaled.”

“In front of him?” Met with silence, Donghyuck’s jaw drops, “Jeno.”

“I know.” Donghyuck glares at him, “I _know_, but I honestly had no other choice! And it doesn’t matter anyway, he won’t remember a thing!”

“It’s courtesy to Portal without Normals around!” Donghyuck sighs, “What if something _does _happen? What are we going to do then?”

“Nothing’s going to happen, Hyuck.” He leaves out the part about how the boy’s got his stomach all queasy, “He wasn’t going to let me go, and I knew you were going to get Doyoung if I waited too long to Portal. I couldn’t have that–especially not when I was perfectly safe.”

“Safe?” Donghyuck’s voice drips with skepticism, “You just said he had a sword.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t use it on me.”

“Jeno–”

“I’ll explain everything over lunch, Hyuck.” The words feel bitter on his tongue, but Jeno ignores it. All that matters is that he’s safe now. He rubs at his tummy, “I need a burger or something, I’m starving.”

Donghyuck glowers at him, “Fine. But you’re paying.”

Jeno frowns, but stands anyway, “What? Why?”

“A game is a game–I won fair and square, Lee.”

+

Time is relative.

Think of it like a river where the water never stops flowing. Going along with it means to move at a fixed pace, and for the Normals, there is only the option to move forward, never back. Time is the same; time waits for no one and time never ends. Or at least, Jeno doesn’t know if it’ll ever end. He supposes time could stop whenever it wanted to and the world could cease to exist, but even then, would it really ever end?

Doyoung tells him not to worry about things like that.

His earliest memory is being found by Kim Doyoung, in fact, a Traveler of time long before Jeno had jumped his first Portal. He was brought to a tiny shop with bookshelves for walls, filled to the brim with boxes, stuffed into every nook and cranny possible. Doyoung had bought him his first pocketwatch, explained the mechanisms of it, and promised that he would properly teach Jeno to Portal one day, which he did.

His next memory is some years later, after following Doyoung diligently and staying by the older boy’s side. Doyoung had brought a boy home one stormy night; a boy that’d been stuck out in the rain, soaked to the bone, silver pocketwatch clutched tightly in his hand. Jeno was justifiably wary of this new person in their lives, unwelcoming of the shivering lump on their couch. For years, it had just been him and Doyoung, there wasn’t a need for someone new. They have an unbreakable bond, thicker than blood, and he didn’t like the thought of a stranger joining them both, a third person in their family of two.

But Doyoung refused to listen to Jeno’s objections. He took the boy–who later introduced himself as Lee Taeyong–in and insisted that Taeyong stay with them in their time. _For how long?_ Jeno had demanded, but Doyoung never answered. Back then, it didn’t make sense to Jeno why Doyoung was so adamant in letting Taeyong stay, especially when he appeared to be some miserable stranger he picked off the street without a care.

It wasn’t until a few months after their initial meeting that Jeno, however, noticed that Taeyong has a bond with Doyoung too. It isn’t anything like what Jeno has with Doyoung, it isn’t anything like that at all. They whispered and touched and hid in ways Jeno hadn’t ever seen before, and some part of him was compelled to feel guilty whenever he saw them jump apart at the sound of his footsteps.

Regrettably, as much as Jeno insisted on hating Lee Taeyong and his presence since he’d so unfairly stolen Doyoung away, he couldn’t keep the façade when Taeyong did everything in his power to make it up to Jeno–because well, he plainly didn’t have to.

He taught Jeno how to find coordinates (something Doyoung never wanted Jeno to learn), he brought Jeno to a later decade in time and taught him how to drive a real car (they were living in the past then and Doyoung had gotten so angry at them both for leaving without a word), and he told Jeno of the stories from before he met Doyoung–that he lost his family and that he couldn’t find any other Traveler for centuries, that he was lost in his own time, and that Doyoung was his saving grace by finding him on a night that could’ve been the end of everything.

Jeno eventually came around to liking Taeyong, loving him even, in the same way he loves Doyoung. They made a good family, them three.

Then, Donghyuck.

Jeno very nearly threatened to leave when Doyoung brought yet another stray home, and it didn’t help that Donghyuck ate all of Jeno’s _songpyeon _the first night he stayed; they were handmade ones Jeno Portaled back to get specially made for Taeyong’s birthday. His addition took Jeno a lot longer to accept, more so when he felt like he was losing both Doyoung and Taeyong to Donghyuck’s witty jokes and affectionate hugs.

“We are a family,” Doyoung had reminded him sternly. It had been some weeks after Donghyuck’s arrival and Jeno felt pushed to the corners, forgotten, “We have to stick together.”

“He’s not my family,” Jeno hissed. Donghyuck had Portaled with Taeyong to a couple of decades earlier for a concert that’d sold out during the time they lived there. It was something he and Taeyong failed to do together and Donghyuck had managed to get them tickets for the concert’s encore night, “He’s taking my family away from me.”

“He’s not, Jeno.” Doyoung never looked as disappointed as he did that evening, “Travelers can’t survive alone, you know that. We live in our own time, we Portal when we have to, we stick _together_. Donghyuck is your family, Taeyong is your family, and I am your family. Do you understand?”

Jeno did, but he didn’t want to. Doyoung made him promise to give Donghyuck a second chance, and Jeno had, albeit begrudgingly. He was ready to pretend to have given it his best shot, but Donghyuck had returned that night with a band t-shirt and a signed album for Jeno, calling for a truce too (Taeyong’s doing, Jeno suspected).

“We’ll go for another concert together next time,” Donghyuck had said, scratching the back of his neck. “It wasn’t all that fun anyway–Taeyong said his back hurt so we couldn’t really fully utilize our pit tickets.”

“Hey!”

So they did go, and anything before that didn’t matter again.

Time is like a river.

Traveling is nothing like that.

“There are three things you have to know about Traveling.” Doyoung had sat him down the day he was found, and Jeno hugged the mug of hot cocoa close to his chest, nervous.

“One. Never lose your pocketwatch. It summons your energy and enables you to Portal–without it, you’re stuck until you manage to get your hands on another. All pocketwatches work only with your energy, without it, they’re of no use.”

Jeno nodded. The silver pocketwatch Doyoung had gotten him has since then been in his pocket at all times, he never goes anywhere without it, just as Doyoung kept his. Donghyuck kept his on a long necklace around his neck, and so did Taeyong.

“Two. Remember my pocketwatch’s identification number.” Doyoung handed him a slip of paper holding six alphanumeric characters. It was small enough to fit in Jeno’s wallet, thinner than a credit card, “If you get lost, Portal back to me. There is only one of me in a span of all time: past, present, and future. We exist in spite of time–it doesn’t matter if we’ve jumped Portals in the time that you’ve gone–when you Portal to us, to me, you will return to us and you will be safe.”

That piece of paper now resides in Donghyuck’s wallet, even though neither of them needed it anymore. The both of them have all numbers memorized and kept close to their hearts, Taeyong and Doyoung’s included. At one point, Taeyong had gotten Doyoung’s number tattooed on the inner side of his forearm, and Doyoung had gotten Taeyong’s on his wrist–not that they needed it, they’re already tied together in other ways; one of them being the matching silver rings on their fingers, tying them together forever.

“Three. When you Portal somewhere, traces of you disappear when you Portal back to our time, whatever time you came from. No matter what you do in the time you’ve Portaled, it resets the moment you Portal back to us and the time we live in. Your actions leave no memories to the people you interact with.”

“It doesn’t?”

“As Travelers, time means nothing to us now. We live in_ our time_–the time you, me, Taeyong, and Donghyuck live and Travel in. We could live in this year and follow the linear time for the next five years, but we could come back after those five years and relive it once more. That is ten years our time, even if we’re reliving the same years twice.”

Doyoung took a deep breath, “A Traveler’s time is the time he Travels with his companions. Without companions, without family, a Traveler’s time doesn’t matter. There is no other time that matters to us, linear time does not affect us–when we Portal, we are merely blips in a straight line moving forward.”

Jeno gulped, tried his best to commit this all to memory.

“But there is an exception,” Doyoung said. “Even if our actions leave no trace, you shouldn’t Portal back to the same exact time more than you need to–especially if you know what you’re doing.”

Jeno was lost, “Why not?”

“Doing that can create glitches. As many times as you wish to relive the same day, that is not the purpose that should be used for Traveling,” Doyoung spoke slowly. “Even as Travelers, we are meant to live a day once–the same exact day. Returning too often to a particular day will drain our energy, and it might mess up the linear state of time, even going so far as to create time warps. Blending our time to linear time will not affect us, but it _will _affect the Normals and–once these glitches are formed, it’s too late for us to fix it. It’ll be out of our control.”

Jeno hadn’t ever had to think that hard before.

Doyoung stared, “Repeat those three things back to me.”

“Never lose my pocketwatch, always Portal back to you.” Jeno hesitated on the last one, “Our time exists differently than others.”

“Yes. While no other time matters but ours, no traveling back to the same date unless it’s a dire need–for the sake of the Normals.” He held onto Jeno’s arm protectively, “We’re family now, alright? Being alone as a Traveler is dangerous–without another Traveler, we lose our time, we lose ourselves.”

“What if I do get lost?”

“Live in the time you’re stuck in,” Doyoung said. “Find another Traveler and create a new time together. When you can, Travel back to me–I will always be the anchor in our time. We will always be waiting for you, do you understand?”

Jeno didn’t, but he supposed he’d learn on the way. And he learnt the most important thing–as long as he Portaled back to his family, he’ll always return to the right time, he’ll always be safe.

+

**1996**

“We have to go, Hyuck.”

“Not yet.” Donghyuck is pulling him by the sleeve now, yanking him towards one of the tallest rollercoasters in sight, “We can’t leave without taking the ride we came here for!”

At its steel frame and multiple pretzel knot inversions, Jeno finds his heart beating twice as fast. The ride–horrifyingly named _Moonsault Scramble–_was supposedly one of the world’s tallest rides back in the day, but due to some unfortunate circumstances, it was shut down completely a few years after its grand opening.

Naturally, upon finding this tidbit on the internet, Donghyuck insisted they Portal back to have a go at it. Doyoung was completely against it, but Taeyong gave them the green light, and it’s after breakfast on a Monday morning that they Portal back in time.

“We’ve spent too much time here,” Jeno argues, starting to lose all feeling in his limbs. He’s a few steps away from being too weak to fight Donghyuck, who seems hell-bent on shoving him onto this daunting ride, “Doyoung said to be back within a half hour.”

“Doyoung also said not to have too many turkey legs, but I’m not going to tell him you had _three_ in a row, which, by the way, is the sole reason we had to take all the slow rides first because you needed to digest them.” Donghyuck looks over his shoulder, mischief in his eyes, “Isn’t that right?”

Jeno groans.

“I don’t get it anyway,” Donghyuck laments. His grip never loosens around Jeno’s arm, “They’re not Portaling anywhere any time soon since Taeyong’s doing really well in that teaching job of his–I don’t understand why we have to rush home every time we Portal out to do something fun. I mean, what’s the point of Traveling if you have a curfew?”

“In the event something happens,” Jeno answers, taking the words right out of Doyoung’s mouth. “What if there’s a glitch in time and they lose their pocketwatches? Or if something happens to them? Or if we stay too long and mess up? It’s just safer if we checked in every night.”

“Nothing’s ever going to happen to them,” Donghyuck snorts. He leads them down the long line for the ride, maneuvering through the rails easily, “They’re the most boring Travelers I’ve ever Traveled with. They don’t mess with time, they don’t do anything out of the box–they’re practically an old married couple, just cuddling on the couch, watching those new-age television shows while cutting coupons out from home décor magazines.”

Jeno makes a face, “Is that a bad thing?”

“No.” Donghyuck shrugs, “It’s just boring.”

Jeno couldn’t disagree more. He wouldn’t know what to do if he had to go a day without their family–he didn’t want to. It’s all he’s ever known, and Jeno doesn’t want it to change.

Though, it does make him wonder who Donghyuck used to Travel with, but it seemed too sensitive a topic to touch. They’re only just starting to get along, a solid five months after Donghyuck’s arrival; Jeno didn’t want anything to throw them back to the start.

“Did you ever tell them what happened?” Donghyuck asks. He elaborates, “Last week when we Portaled? About the boy in a purple dress?”

Right. Him.

Jeno wishes Donghyuck hadn’t brought it up; it’d taken him far too much effort to try and forget the Prince and the unanswered questions from that night. Despite promising to go back, there was no way he could without rousing suspicion. Donghyuck didn’t know what year–much less which _century­–_he sent Jeno to and it would drain Jeno to Portal through all the years possible.

“They were robes.” Jeno shrugs, “And no, I didn’t. It’d only get us both in trouble if I told them we Portaled too far.”

“Hmm.” Donghyuck leans against the railings, expression thoughtful, “I wonder what it’d be like, if we Portaled back to live in those times.”

“Doyoung says he didn’t like time back then,” Jeno recalls. “Says he didn’t enjoy the lack of indoor plumbing and the terrible food.”

“He just says that because the 21st century’s got that really fancy Dyson he likes,” Donghyuck deadpans. The line inches forward and they inch forward too, “Don’t you ever think what it’d be like to live in times like that?”

Jeno thinks it over, “Not really.” He hums, “I guess I’d like to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there for a couple of years. Doesn’t seem like McDonald’s was invented yet.”

Donghyuck clicks his tongue, “You’re just like Taeyong–no wonder Doyoung’s constantly nagging at you and your eating habits, they’re really crap, you know?”

“Says you,” Jeno retorts, “I saw you finish four packets of those chocolate coin things two days ago.”

Donghyuck narrows his eyes, “They were _dark _chocolate.” He pushes himself off the railing before Jeno can come up with another comeback, “Hold our place–I’m going to the bathroom.”

Jeno watches incredulously as Donghyuck ducks out of the line, hurrying towards the exit without a second glance. Surrendering to silence, Jeno focuses instead on the boards hanging from the ceiling, detailing risk warnings and safety tips. Distantly, he wishes he could take his phone out to send Doyoung a text explaining their delay, but he wouldn’t have any signal here to anyway.

“Excuse me–excuse me, sorry, thank you–my friends are ahead in line, yes–sorry.”

Jeno steps to the side automatically, letting the stranger pass. He doesn’t think too much of it, until he’s somehow seized by how familiar it feels. He turns, quickly this time, and his eyes are caught by a glint of gold hidden partially by the stranger’s collar. Jeno startles at how it looks so much like something he’s definitely seen before.

Without thinking, “Hey.” The stranger doesn’t seem to realize that Jeno’s referring to him, still moving forward in the queue, “Excuse me.”

The boy turns.

Jeno’s heart shoots to the skies.

It’s him. The Prince, the boy in the purple robes; but now, he’s in an oversized sweater and loose light-washed jeans, clunky white shoes on his feet. His hair is a lighter shade of brown, a little longer in the back. Those seem to be the only changes Jeno can discern–the Prince’s eyes are exactly as he remembered from just a week ago.

But it can’t be.

Unless–the Prince’s a Traveler too? Or is this boy a doppelgänger of some sort?

_No_, Jeno thinks, _It’s him._

The Prince narrows his eyes, and it’s not as threatening as it had been before, yet uncanny. He eyes Jeno up and down, “Do I know you?”

That rules out Traveling then. If the Prince were a Traveler, there’s no way he wouldn’t instantly recognize Jeno (aside from the probability of Jeno being completely unmemorable, he hopes not). A Doyoung-like voice in the back of his mind tells him not to push it any further, but he ignores it, “You don’t remember me?”

The Prince stares, _really _stares. Something crosses his face, “Should I remember you?”

Jeno blanks. Two times in his life he’s met this boy and he never fails to reduce Jeno’s brain to mush.

“Because I do.” The Prince turns to face Jeno fully, and Jeno wonders if he’s just landed himself in hot water. There’s recognition and apprehension, “But I don’t know if I should.”

Jeno feels _hot_. He feels a warmth creep up his back, spread across his shoulders. Something about how the Prince insists on staring at him–or is it the fact that he remembers Jeno? Whatever it is–it’s making Jeno wish he could Portal home right now, with or without Donghyuck.

The same sickly feeling returns.

That aside, if the Prince remembers he, there’s no way he could be a Normal either. A Normal wouldn’t have any recollection of him.

Jeno figures to start with the question that’s haunted him over the past week, “What’s your name?”

The Prince doesn’t think on it for too long, “Huang Renjun.”

Jeno mouths it; the name rolls awkwardly on his tongue. Distantly, he’s grateful that the Prince has seemed to lower his guards since the last time they met.

“You are Lee Jeno.” Renjun wastes no time, “Why do I remember you?”

The corner of Jeno’s lips twitch. However long ago it was–days or centuries–Renjun’s tone is still sharp as ever. He takes a leap, “We’ve met.”

“I know we have.” Albeit Renjun’s irritation, Jeno’s heart beats a little quicker, “I’m asking _why_ do I remember you? Why are you here?”

“I–I’m here to sit this ride.” Jeno cringes inwardly when he sees impatience flash in Renjun’s eyes, “Oh. I’m a Traveler.”

Renjun’s expression smoothens out, clears of feeling, and it’s so indifferent that Jeno worries he might’ve said the wrong thing. Just as he’s about to ask or apologize or say something–anything–to alleviate the rising tension, Renjun speaks, voice low, “You are.”

He’d expected it. While it isn’t easy to find other Travelers, it isn’t completely impossible either. Over the time he’s Traveled, he’s most definitely come across other Travelers, other families. Though, none of his encounters with other Travelers have been as surreal–he knows off another sense Renjun isn’t a Traveler, but the answer still surprises him.

“Why do you remember me?”

Renjun glances around, as if he were afraid they’d be overheard, “I just do. From a long time ago.” Jeno tries to understand, but he can’t make any sense of it; if he’d met Renjun centuries ago and again today, what other explanation could there be but for him to be a Traveler too? Renjun doesn’t wait for Jeno to gather the courage to ask, “I have to go.”

“What?

Jeno doesn’t think, following when Renjun turns to escape the line. His body moves without hesitating–he needs to know what’s going on. Part of it’s his own curiosity, his own need to find answers to the questions that will haunt him for months if he doesn’t find them today, but there’s something else too.

Perhaps, the butterflies in his stomach won’t let this day end just yet.

“Hey–wait a second–”

Renjun moves, and he moves _fast_. He’s small enough to squeeze his way out of the line and Jeno fears he’ll he slowed down by these passersby who don’t seem to grasp the concept of _Excuse me!_

“Renjun–”

And he catches hold of Renjun’s wrist, steps away from the entrance to the ride. People turn to stare, but Jeno is too absorbed by the fact that this feels so right–calling out for Renjun, holding him back. It’s a rush of comfort, of familiarity, and Jeno doesn’t know what it is, but he doesn’t want to have to lose it.

He spots the same birthmark on the back of Renjun’s hand. 

“Don’t make a scene,” Renjun tells him. And softly, “Time doesn’t work for me as it does for you.”

Jeno shuffles closer, apologetic, “Sorry, I just–I don’t know why I felt like–I feel–”

“Not here,” Renjun says. He grabs Jeno’s hand now, properly, clasped together, leading the way down to an obscure loop in the park. He lets go when they’re in a gazebo, checking their surroundings for souls other than theirs, “What do you want, Traveler?”

Jeno doesn’t flinch at the hostility. In an odd sort of way, it reminds him of when they first met, a mere week ago. Though, centuries for Renjun. Did he–does this mean he’s been alive all this while?

“What do you mean when you say that time doesn’t work for you as it does for me?”

Renjun looks at him like he can’t tell if Jeno were messing around or if he were truly clueless. He folds his arms across his chest, “I’m an Immortal.”

Jeno has never heard of that, not even in passing. Perplexed, “You’re immortal?”

At that, Renjun straightens. He watches Jeno closely, starting to truly believe that Jeno’s lack of knowledge is genuine. Cautious, he maintains a distance, “No. I _am_ an Immortal.”

“What’s the difference?”

“The difference is–” He frowns, “What sort of Traveler doesn’t know what an Immortal is?”

Jeno blinks, “I don’t really know a lot of things.” Instantly, he realizes how that must sound, “I mean–I’m not–I’ve never heard of an Immortal, of anyone being immortal. Not that–I don’t know things. I know things. I know a lot of things.”

_Smooth. Oh, so smooth, Jeno._

“Right.” Renjun pauses again, thinking; Jeno wants to ask just exactly _why _is he so cautious for? If anything, Jeno should be the one that’s afraid, shoved in the dark. Renjun sucks in a long breath, “As an Immortal, I live until my time is up, whenever that is. I don’t jump times as you do. Everything I do now affects my time as it does Normals, my actions have repercussions.”

“So, you’re immortal on some level. You live forever, you _have_ lived for forever.” Renjun doesn’t correct him, so Jeno assumes he’s somewhat on the right path, “I–sorry. I’m being–blunt, I–I’ve… never met an Immortal.”

Renjun isn’t surprised anymore, “There aren’t many of us.”

That strikes Jeno. He can’t imagine living without Doyoung and Taeyong, and even Donghyuck, if he were being truthful. Through the years, he’s come to realize that Doyoung’s right, Travelers can’t survive alone.

_We lose our time, we lose ourselves._

Jeno thinks of Taeyong when he remembers this. Thinks of how Taeyong had lost his time, of how Taeyong had been lost before Doyoung. He doesn’t want to think about what could’ve happened if Doyoung didn’t find Taeyong that night.

“As an Immortal, it’s only natural we cross paths,” Renjun shares, when Jeno asks if he knows of any other Immortals. “We spend some years together, but the centuries get boring after a while. It’s easier being alone, living amongst the Normals. Pretending to live as they do.”

Yet another question. How long has Jeno existed? He doesn’t know. He’s crossed times, yes, but he doesn’t know just how long he’s been _here_. Neither Doyoung nor Taeyong nor Donghyuck have mentioned it, and it’s not something Jeno wished he knew, it’s not a question he needs answered.

Renjun, on the other hand, sounds as if he’s existed for a long, _long _time.

“But you remember me?” Jeno doesn’t know what to make of it, “That was more than a century–no, it must’ve been more than hundreds of years ago.”

Renjun presses his lips together, “Being an Immortal changes the relationship I have with time. A day is no longer a day, a year is no longer a year. It moves, but not at the same rate as it should for everyone. The longer you stay in time, the shorter the days turn; your perception of time changes, the proportion of a day to how many days you’ve lived changes–time moves faster with every day that passes.”

“Time is relative.”

Quietly, “Yes.”

The sounds around them drown out, muted. Jeno can’t stop _staring_, so blatantly attracted by the way Renjun is how he is. He cracks his knuckles, another round of nausea bubbling in his stomach.

Renjun licks his lips, “You weren’t exactly easy to forget.”

If Jeno didn’t know better, he might have believed that Renjun’s cheeks are pinker now than they had been a moment ago. “I wasn’t?”

“No,” Renjun says, as-a-matter-of-factly. “You were the first Traveler to ever Portal in front of me, it wasn’t something I could’ve forgotten just like that.”

Jeno doesn’t know what he expected as an answer, “Right. Sorry.”

“And you said–” Renjun fidgets with his sleeves, looking at them with immense interest, “You said you’d come back.”

Jeno’s cheeks burn now, searing fire, “I did.”

Renjun glances at him, unsure, “I waited for you.”

Jeno’s world spins, “You did?”

“I was younger back then,” Renjun says. “I didn’t know what you were, I didn’t know if I was hallucinating. I didn’t know where to find any answers–I hoped you could find me–that you’d return to tell me. As you’d promised.”

Jeno exhales shortly, “Sorry.”

The world hasn’t stopped spinning; Renjun was waiting for him? For centuries?

“I eventually found them with another Traveler.” Jeno snaps his mouth shut; something bites the edge of his heart. Renjun goes on, “That was years after I met you. I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Neither did I,” Jeno breathes. He wrestles to piece the timeline together, “But in my time–it’s only been a week.”

Renjun fails to stifle his surprise, “What?”

“I–it’s only been a week since I last saw you,” Jeno trails off towards the end of the sentence, watching realization dawn on Renjun’s face. He doesn’t know why he’s sorry, but he simply is, “This–this isn’t my time. I’m from twenty-three years from now, my family–we live in that time. I’m here today by–coincidence.”

Nothing about today feels like coincidence.

That same look is back on Renjun’s face, and Jeno detests how unsettled it makes him feel, “But I–I thought about you too.”

Renjun blinks, “You did?”

“Of–of course I did,” Jeno stutters. He starts to pace, clueless as to what to do with his hands, “I’d never met anyone like–how I met you, and I didn’t know how to go back because I didn’t know _when_ I met you. I–I thought you’d forget me.”

If a pin dropped, it would be the loudest thing to Jeno’s ears.

“I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

Renjun seems to bounce off his nervous energy, shuffling over to sit in one of the plastic chairs shaped like an extra-large banana leaf. He has his hand over his heart, and Jeno wonders if it sounds just like his own, hammering a hole into his ribcage. He stops pacing, coming to a stop on Renjun’s left, thoughts racing.

“What is happening?”

Jeno wishes he knew.

“When else have we met?”

Finally, a question Jeno can answer, “Never. This is the second time.”

Renjun frowns, “How can you be sure? What if–we’ve forgotten?”

_We._

Jeno grabs onto his heart before it can fly out of his chest.

He thinks over Renjun’s words, thinks about all that he knows and believes. It would make a lot more sense if he _did _meet Renjun more than when he was a prince and today itself–it would explain this inexplicable pull he feels to a boy he barely knows.

Renjun troubles at his silence, turning up to look at him. There, Renjun looks, like he’s drinking in the fact that they’re _here_. Jeno does the same. _Have _they met before? Jeno knows that’s not possible; he’d definitely remember if they did, and he hasn’t done any Portaling in the last week, so there’s that. There’s no way they could’ve met before the last time either, Jeno swears on it because he _would _remember–he’d remember this exact feeling.

There must be another reason then, for why everything feels so familiar–for why everything feels like it fits in a puzzle, why he feels towards Renjun the way he feels despite his mind not yet fully comprehending it. He wants a rational explanation, he wants answers, but living the lives they live–Jeno knows that to be impossible.

“I’m sure,” he says eventually. Taking a seat next to Renjun, Jeno clasps his hands together over his knees, shrinking into himself, “There is only one of me–past, present, future. There are no other versions of me that can exist.”

“How can that be? What would happen if you went back into the past? To the night we met?”

Jeno leans back into the seat, eyes zoning onto the curve of Renjun’s shoulder. “I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “I’ve never had someone remember me through one of my Travels. If it were just any Normal, I’d be returning to a clean slate, as if that night hadn’t happened,” Jeno twiddles with his thumb, averting his eyes when Renjun casts him a glance, “But you’re not–you’re not just anyone.”

“I guess I’m not,” Renjun mumbles.

“To be fair, you _were _a prince the last time I saw you.” Jeno tries to lighten the mood, feeling a sense of weight draping itself around them, “You couldn’t be just anyone.”

His efforts are rewarded: Renjun smiles, small and timid. He hooks his ankles together, bringing his hands to rest on his lap, “I was a prince then.”

“Is that why you had to leave?” Jeno asks, “Because you’re immortal?”

“One of them.” Renjun mumbles, “I guess I owe you an explanation.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Jeno says, automatic.

Renjun lifts his eyes and Jeno’s grinds on his teeth to keep himself from marveling aloud about how his breath is being taken away. “I’ve lived a lot of lives,” he laughs lightly. “It was one of my earlier lives,” his eyes flit to Jeno, fleeting, “when I first met you,” he looks away, ears reddening, “and I didn’t know much then, but I was a scholar–thanks to my knowledge of the world.”

“Of the world?”

“I picked up a few things from my previous lives,” Renjun shrugs. He goes back to staring at his hands, “I had to escape the coronation the planned for me. There couldn’t be a king that never died; our history books would be–significantly different.”

“I would think so,” Jeno says, inadvertently feeling sorry for Renjun. “Where did you go after that?”

Renjun laughs again, “We’d need a lot more time if I were to tell you of all my lives.”

Jeno wets his lips, “Right.” Renjun is looking at him now, something unreadable in his eyes. Jeno clears his throat and leans further back into his seat, heart far too unready to have anyone like Renjun sitting this close to him, “I’ve only had this life.”

“This life?”

“For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been me.” Jeno picks at rips on his jeans, “I don’t remember much before Doyoung found me.”

That, he’s never told anyone.

“Doyoung?” Renjun asks, “Is he your family?”

“Yeah.” Jeno watches Renjun, wonders if he’s still alone here, but decides it’s not a question he should be asking. It isn’t the time or place, “Well, part of it. There are four of us.”

“Four,” Renjun says, almost in disbelief.

At that, they let silence settle between them, accepting but not quite understanding the details of the situation now on the table before them. Jeno starts to bounce his knee when it drags on for a little too long, succumbing to the myriad of questions that insist on plaguing his mind–how is today going to end? Is he going to get to give Renjun his number? Would he even be able to call Jeno? Would he even want to? Are they ever going to meet again?

“Do you have to go?”

Jeno snaps back to his present self. Renjun is watching him now, misreading his petulance. In that short second before he answers, he considers that the melancholy he hears could be Renjun’s unwillingness for their time to end too and Jeno thinks the stars must’ve aligned in the cosmos for him to have Traveled to today and–

Oh my god.

Jeno bolts to his feet, a fear gripping him tight.

“What?” Renjun stands too, looking over his shoulder, “What is it?”

“Donghyuck,” Jeno groans. He smacks his forehead and screws his eyes shut, “Oh _crap._” He rushes to explain when he opens his eyes, meeting the worry on Renjun’s face, “I, no–it’s just my–brother, I didn’t tell him that I was going to leave our spot in the queue.”

Renjun blinks, “Your brother?”

“Yes, well, I mean–no, he’s not _actually _my brother, but he is, and I was waiting in line for him and when I bumped into you–”

“You left,” Renjun says. He runs a hand through his hair, turning to look back from where they came from, “Would he leave without you?”

“No,” Jeno sighs. “He’d just be worried, I guess, I don’t think he’d Portal back without me just yet. I hope.”

“But,” Renjun nods, “You should probably still go. And you know, find your brother, I–I’m sorry, I dragged you here, I–”

“I would’ve followed anyway,” Jeno mumbles. His hand itches for Renjun’s, just to please see what they’d feel like against his, but they’ve really, _really _only just met. He doesn’t know what to do anymore.

“I don’t know either,” Renjun says. He doesn’t shy away this time, “And I–I don’t know why I don’t want you to leave.”

_Screw it._

Jeno extends his hand out, already preparing for rejection when Renjun–takes it. He takes it and pulls Jeno forward into a hug, cheek against Jeno’s shoulder and hiding his face away. Jeno returns it immediately, prays his heart isn’t too loud for them both to hear.

“I didn’t know if I’d see you again after this,” Renjun explains, arms around Jeno’s neck. Jeno hugs a little tighter too, wondering the same thing, “And I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about it because–I want to see you again.”

Jeno very nearly melts. He can’t know it for sure, but he promises anyway, “We will. We’ll definitely meet again.”

“You sound confident,” Renjun laughs, mirthless.

“I’m not,” Jeno admits, “But I would like to think we will.”

“You do?”

“I do.” He unsticks himself from Renjun, asks the question that’s been on the tip of his tongue, “How will I find you again?”

“Will you be able to come back here again tomorrow?” Renjun’s face is crimson now and Jeno feels the warmth on his own cheeks, “Are you allowed to?”

“I don’t think so,” Jeno deflates. “Doyoung’d say it’s too dangerous to. What if–what if I found you in my time?”

“That’s twenty-three years from now, I wouldn’t know what I’d be doing,” Renjun sighs. He starts to pull away from Jeno, “I might have to leave the country–I can’t ever stay for too long. The Normals will get suspicious of me.” He hugs himself, tensely, “Do you have to go now?”

Jeno answers before he thinks, “No. I just–have to find Donghyuck. Tell him what’s going on.”

Renjun nods jerkily, “Okay.”

“Why don’t–” Jeno already _knows _what Donghyuck’s going to say, but he offers it anyway, “Why don’t you come with me?”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Jeno relaxes at the possibility of their time lasting for a little longer. “Unless you have to get back to your friends, I mean we could work some other way out to–”

“It’s okay,” Renjun says, moving closer again. He takes Jeno by the hand once more, and Jeno is overwhelmed by the urge to never let go. “They’re probably already on that ride without me and they know I’m not all that interested anyway; I’ll find them after.”

“Okay,” Jeno nods. He squeezes Renjun’s hand once, then leads them out of the gazebo. The sun feels different against his skin, and Jeno can’t help but be completely in tuned to where their hands are together. He’s thinking about their first meeting when he remembers, “You never told me what your last name was.”

“Huang.”

“Huang Renjun.”

“That’s right, Lee Jeno,” Renjun says. He looks away, but not before Jeno catches the smile on his lips. “Your brother–what does he look like?”

“Nothing like me,” Jeno says. He considers it, “He’s a little shorter than I am, though he’ll need gun to his head to admit it, and he has brown hair.”

Jeno had dyed it for Donghyuck a couple of days ago, and while they’d made a complete mess of the kitchen–to Taeyong’s utter dismay–Jeno thought he did a pretty good job at it. Doyoung even says he could consider taking classes they next time they jump times.

“Brown hair?” Renjun whispers, “Is that–is that him?”

Jeno turns, almost backpedaling into Renjun when he sees Donghyuck stalking towards them, a look of pure anger on his face. Oddly enough, it resembles Doyoung’s whenever he finds out they’ve cleared the fridge of snacks in a single night.

“Where the hell did you go!” Donghyuck hisses, “I went through the entire line and I looked like a liar, a complete idiot! Claiming I had my brother holding a place for us only to lose you by the end of it!”

“Hyuck,” Jeno says, in a tone that crosses _People are staring _and _Please stop yelling at me in front of Renjun_, “I had to leave the line, I’m sorry–I ran into Renjun.”

Donghyuck turns to said boy then. He stares at Renjun from head to toe, registering the new addition to their non-conversation. His expression tightens, “Who?”

“The Prince I told you about.” Beside him, Renjun fidgets, holding onto Jeno’s arm with his free hand. Jeno gives him a loaded look, “This is him. The boy in the purple robes.”

Donghyuck frowns, “What?”

“I’m an Immortal,” Renjun explains, above Jeno’s incoherent stuttering. “Huang Renjun, it’s nice to meet you.”

“An Immortal.” He says this with understanding, and Jeno wonders what else of their world does he not know yet. Donghyuck takes Renjun’s offered hand, shakes it once, “Lee Donghyuck.” When his hand drops, he turns on Jeno, “What’s going on here? You know we have to go home, don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Jeno blinks. He raises a hand to scratch at his nape, “I was thinking I could stay a little longer–”

“And you want me to cover for you?” Donghyuck says this unlike a question, and immediately, Jeno hears the hidden implication.

“I’ll owe you one,” Jeno nods. He doesn’t miss the way Renjun turns to look at him, a question there. “I’ll Portal back to you in three hours, I promise.”

“You’d better,” Donghyuck says, already pulling his pocketwatch from under his shirt. They’re a half hour past curfew now, and Jeno doesn’t need to be home to know that Doyoung’s already waiting for them in their living room, ready to deliver another lecture on punctuality and responsibility.

“If you don’t, I’m sending Doyoung after you.”

“Hyuck–”

Donghyuck smirks, “Or Taeyong, if I’m feeling exceptionally kind.”

He dials his pocketwatch and gives Jeno a final look, silently asking if Jeno is truly sure about what he’s doing. Jeno gives him a half-nod that’s hesitant even to his own mind, shielding his eyes when Donghyuck blitzes off, sparks of red and gold coloring the air for only a heartbeat.

Then, he’s gone.

In the silence, Jeno is reminded once more that,_ no_, he really doesn’t know what he’s doing. He hasn’t the slightest clue.

“So,” Renjun mumbles, “What should we do now?”

And Jeno thinks that it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t know anyway. All that matters for now is that he’s here and so is Renjun.

+

They leave the amusement park after that. Renjun takes him to a quiet café on some street Jeno hasn’t been on before, and there is where they spend all three hours. Between two mugs of hot chocolate and a half-eaten slice of strawberry shortcake, they talk.

Renjun tells Jeno a little about all of the lives he’s led, about being part of history in a way that doesn’t have him recorded in any history book, about living on different continents around the world, about befriending Normals and learning of grief. He tells Jeno about the people he’s met–the good and the bad–and about the pets he’s kept–trying to fill void of loneliness. He tells Jeno of the other Immortals he used to live with; Na Jaemin, who’s living out a long, humble life helping the needy; Park Jisung, who’s living out a quiet life alongside Jaemin. They move every few years or so, so as to not raise suspicion with their agelessness, and Renjun says they keep in contact through post.

“You’ve never thought to live with them again?” Jeno asks. He didn’t know how to appreciate solitude like Renjun did; he couldn’t imagine living without Doyoung’s love, without Taeyong’s affection, without Donghyuck’s presence.

“I did, for a while,” Renjun says. He takes a sip from his hot chocolate, “But I can only stay with them for so long without feeling like I’m imposing on them.”

Jeno wonders if he and Donghyuck are imposing.

“Immortals live differently from Travelers,” Renjun reassures. He adds, after a moment’s thought, “Though, I haven’t lived with them in a while. Perhaps–it’s time for a call soon.”

Jeno files that question to the back of his mind when Renjun asks about his family.

He tells Renjun of how it used to be just him and Doyoung, and how he detested the addition of anyone new. He tells Renjun that it couldn’t be more different now, that’d he wouldn’t know what his life would be like now without Taeyong and Donghyuck. He tells Renjun that they stay in time for five years at a go before moving–the sweet spot they’ve found together–usually long enough for them to exhaust all of their interest in said time.

“So you move through times a lot?” Renjun asks.

“Yes, and no,” Jeno says. He takes a bite of their cake, “We usually stay in the same time, but we move neighborhoods or countries. The time and place we’re in now is a comfortable and safe enough spot in time for us to relive it over.”

“You don’t think of moving further into the future?”

“Taeyong is from the linear future,” Jeno says. He recalls the stories Taeyong’s told him, “Doyoung says it’s better to live when and where we live now. Donghyuck says it’s boring, but I don’t mind it. I meet different people every time we move.”

“Do you ever want to meet the same people?”

“Yes, and no.” Jeno twirls the fork between his thumb and forefinger, “Even if I did find them again, they wouldn’t remember be. It would be a completely different friendship, as if I hadn’t met them in the first place.”

Renjun looks down, “That’s… sad.”

“I guess it is, a little,” Jeno sighs. He shakes it off, rolling his shoulders back, “But it really isn’t as bad as it seems to be. They don’t remember me, so they won’t feel–sad, or anything like that.”

“But what about you?” Renjun uses his fork to prod at a strawberry, “Don’t you feel sad? When you leave them behind?”

“I try not to think about it that way,” Jeno says, feeling a sense of somber creeping up on him. Leaving his friends have always been tough, but he’s always made new friends; it wasn’t a problem Jeno faced, “I live my time with my family. A Traveler’s time, it’s almost inevitable that we have to let people go.”

“Oh.”

Jeno stops twirling his fork. They sit in a silence that lasts longer than the other ones that’ve ever passed between them, tension straining taut. Jeno tries to think of something else to say, tries to keep the conversation going, but he can’t think of anything to say when Renjun is looking so–_unhappy_, for some reason.

Renjun pokes the strawberry onto his fork and brings it up to his lips, nibbling on it slowly,

“What does that mean for us then?”

Jeno drops the fork. It clatters to the ground noisily, echoing across the almost empty café. He apologizes quickly, rushing to pick it up. Renjun hands him a napkin robotically, and Jeno ducks under the table once more, brain rushing to make sense of reality while trying to clean up icing off hardwood floors.

Renjun is looking at him when he straightens in his seat, icing-filled napkin gripped tightly in his fist.

“I didn’t mean to throw you off,” Renjun says, quietly. “I just–want to know what’s happening here before you leave again today. Between us.”

If Jeno were holding another fork, he would’ve dropped that one too. He leans forward to leave the napkin on the table, carefully, “I don’t know either, but I mean–I don’t know what I should do. After I have to leave.”

“But you want to–see me again?”

Jeno nods, so quick that he’s sure he’s snapped something in his neck, “Yes. I–I know I haven’t waited as long as you have, but I want to see you again. Definitely, I don’t know–I just feel like I have to. I want to.”

Renjun seems to be appeased at this, setting his fork and half-eaten strawberry down, “Well, I mean, what are our options?” Jeno folds his hands over his lap, twiddling his thumbs as Renjun lists, “You can’t Travel back here without risking casualties, you can’t find me in the future.”

Jeno pipes up, “What if you Portaled back with me?”

“I’ve never Portaled,” Renjun says. “Immortals aren’t meant to live time like that, I don’t know what will happen if I do.”

Jeno purses his lips, thinks, “What if you found me in the future? In my time?”

“I could try,” Renjun mumbles. He leans back against his seat, eyes lifting to the ceiling, “But what if you’re not where you say you are in my linear time? What if you’ve moved times and we miss one another? What if you’ve forgotten?”

“I won’t forget,” Jeno says. Renjun looks at him flatly, makes Jeno sigh, “I really won’t, Renjun. I haven’t, have I?”

“It’s been eight days,” Renjun reminds him. “For you.”

With a sudden adversity for the table between them, Jeno gets up to join Renjun on the long bench he’s on, sidling up to him. Automatically, Renjun moves to rest his head on Jeno’s shoulder, placing his right hand–palm up–for Jeno to take. Tangled limbs and shared breaths, Jeno wonders if he’ll be okay if he never gets to be by Renjun like this again.

“You know what I can’t stop thinking about?” Renjun whispers, brushing his thumb over the back of Jeno’s hand. He waits for Jeno to hum before saying, “That I feel like this for someone I’ve met for five minutes, for someone I had to try and forget, only to have him reappear before me centuries later.”

That sickly feeling returns.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” Jeno says. He doesn’t mean to say it until he does, doesn’t know if he really did mean it until the words fall from his lips, “I really am.”

“Are we out of our minds here?”

Jeno thinks that that could very well be the case but, “Even if we are, I wouldn’t mind it.”

“Strange,” Renjun murmurs.

“Strange?”

He brings their hands onto his lap, holds onto Jeno with both of his, “That I wouldn’t mind it either.”

+

**2019**

_I’m home._

“–right now, I can’t let anything happen to him–”

Jeno’s heart thumps heavily at the words.

“Okay,” Taeyong is saying. Jeno stumbles, feeling the after-effects of Portaling on his legs. He’s back in the apartment now, hidden by the darkness of the unlit hallway. He hears Taeyong and Doyoung somewhere in the kitchen, “I’ll go look for him.”

“No, I should go.” Jeno hears a rattle of chains, and he thinks to say something, but he’s still catching his breath. Doyoung says, “Where did you Portal to, Hyuck? Why didn’t Jeno come back with you.”

“We just went to the amusement park, like we planned to, but he wanted to stay.” Donghyuck drawls, “He said he’d Portal back, don’t worry.”

“And what if something’s happened? What if he’s stuck?” The worry trumps anger, Jeno hears, “I have to find him now–”

“You can’t go,” Taeyong interjects. “What if Jeno Portals to you? We’d lose you both in time, that’s _half_ of us–I should make the trip, Doyoung, you have to stay here–just trust me–”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you–I don’t want you to Portal alone. Not to a place where you don’t know your destination.”

“Doyoung–”

“I _won’t_ risk it!” Doyoung’s voice weakens, “I can’t lose you, Taeyong. I–really can’t.”

Jeno finally takes a lasting breath and steps out before either of them can Portal off.

+

**1996**

He Portals back, but Renjun is nowhere to be seen.

“Excuse me.”

In that split second, Jeno jerks forward. He almost stands, almost falls out of his chair.

_Is it?_

A waiter rounds the table–their table–he’s at, motioning for Jeno’s empty cup. “Can I take this away for you?”

A heaviness has Jeno sinking into his seat again.

  
+

**2022**

It’s late one night when Taeyong finds him in the kitchen.

“Having trouble sleeping?”

Jeno blinks back to reality. His sight tells him that he’s looking down the sink now, but he doesn’t know where he’s been in the last fifteen minutes. Blearily, he turns the faucet on to wash his hands, hearing Taeyong putter around behind him. The water is cool against his skin, waking him in the slightest.

“Something like that,” Jeno says. He shuts the tap and shakes the water off, “You’re awake too.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Taeyong digs through their cabinets for his tray of teabags, mumbling to himself as he reads off each of the tags. He picks one, then looks up at Jeno, “Tea?”

Jeno blinks, “Sure.”

Taeyong moves silently then. He boils water and sets out teapots and matching mugs. Doyoung had labelled them a complete waste of money, but Taeyong reminded him that they’ve worked for _years_; he could afford splurging on a Le Creuset tea set if he wanted to. He takes out some milk and some sugars from the condiment stand on the kitchen counter. Jeno watches him as he shuffles around, feeling oddly at ease to see Taeyong move so fluidly.

The silence is punctured with his delicate tone, “What’s keeping you up?”

And he does this thing whenever he’s looking for answers, Jeno knows. Taeyong likes to keep his gaze down when he tries to pull answers from any of them; it’s his secret little trick, knowing that the lack of eye-contact awards them this odd sense of courage they hadn’t owned the second before.

Jeno picks up one of the mugs, keeping mum. He knows he can talk to Taeyong–or Doyoung or Donghyuck–about anything, but there’s only so many times he can lament over Renjun before they get sick of him (and cast him off to some deserted island).

“We can talk about it,” Taeyong says. He brandishes a cookie jar, pulling the lid off and pushing it towards Jeno, “You’ll feel better if you do.”

Jeno caves, “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“About Renjun?” Taeyong continues to flit around the kitchen, getting a glass and filling it half with milk for Jeno. Doyoung would disapprove of their late-night snacking, but when Taeyong snacks, he goes for the nines and Jeno respects that.

“Yeah.” Jeno leans against the kitchen island, propping his elbows on it to bury his face in his palms, “I _told_ him I’d find him again.”

“You will.”

“It’s been two years.”

“Our two years here could mean two months for him if you Traveled back at the right time.” Taeyong reappears by his side, cookie in his hands, “It could even mean two minutes.”

“But I shouldn’t.”

“You shouldn’t,” Taeyong affirms. He offers the cookie to Jeno and doesn’t back down until Jeno takes it, “The risks are too high–especially for him. Even as an Immortal, they aren’t invulnerable to time glitches.”

Jeno eats the cookie reluctantly, too nauseous for anything solid.

“Is it because of what Doyoung said over dinner?” Taeyong’s voice, if it were even possible, is softer now. Jeno traces his thumb over the ridges of the mug, positively sulking, “About us moving?”

It’s close to the end of their five-year period and Doyoung had suggested they move again soon. Taeyong didn’t seem to mind leaving his job, now that he’s done with one of the bigger projects he’d invested in, and Donghyuck didn’t have any commitments he was too fond to sever. They’d made an agreement to move in the next three months, just to tie up any loose ends–for their own peace of mind–and the conversation’d stuck to the walls on Jeno’s mind ever since it’d been brought up.

“I guess.” Taeyong picks out a cookie for himself, waits for Jeno’s reason, “What if moving back another five years ruins everything?”

“You know that isn’t how our time works,” Taeyong says, kindly. He’s always been more emotion than reason, and for that, Jeno is thankful. He takes a bite, chew thoughtfully, “Unless–you’re worried about the time you’ve created with Renjun?”

So easily, Taeyong translates his thoughts into words.

“Time isn’t something we can control, Jeno, no matter how hard we try to, no matter how much we want to.” Taeyong goes on, licking his lips and munching away, “The time you have with Renjun, we can’t know for sure it’s even–time that he’s got a hold of. There are too many variables to consider.”

Jeno pushes the mug away, “Are you saying I should forget about him?”

“No,” Taeyong says. He finishes the last bit of his cookie, immediately reaching for another, “But I think you should… be prepared for what might not happen.”

The kettle starts to whistle and Taeyong reaches over to turn it off before it wakes the entire family up. He brings it to rest on a cork trivet, flipping the top off to let the water cool.

“There are so many ways this could end, and, in that, so many ways this could go wrong.”

“Go wrong,” Jeno repeats, as if he doesn’t already spend a good portion of his life worrying over this.

Taeyong shoves the remainder of his second cookie past his lips, busying himself with the teabags,

“What if you Traveled to a time where you’d met him the first time, but not the second? Does this erase his memory of you from your second meeting since he travels as Normals do in linear time? It cannot alter what _you _have already done, for we know that there will always only be one of us–past, present, and future. Will he forget you? Or would you have created a glitch in his time? Would that hurt him?”

Jeno _knows _this. It’s why he hasn’t allowed himself to Travel anywhere before the early 1990s; he can’t risk messing the time he’s created with Renjun.

“That’s another thing,” Taeyong says. He pours the steaming hot water into a mug holding Jeno’s peppermint tea first, then his own of earl gray. Jeno takes the cup in his hands, warming himself up. Taeyong seems to have trouble speaking now, tapping his fingers against the counter. He shuts the kettle’s lid, “Your time with Renjun. The meeting with him as a prince, then the meeting with him at the theme park–that is your time with Renjun.”

Jeno doesn’t like the way Taeyong hesitates; he never does when talking to Jeno.

“What of it?”

After an internal battle, Taeyong says, “It’s complicated, trying to live in two times.”

Jeno pushes himself off the counter, listening in rapt attention.

“The beauty of living with other Travelers’ is that you create your own time. You don’t follow the rules of anyone else’s time, and because of that, there’s no worry over infringing the laws of the past and the future. There is only our time, there is no future–and the past is _our _past.”

Taeyong tries to take a sip of his drink, but he sets it down,

“When you live considering the time of others, the aspect of a Traveler’s time is pointless. A Traveler’s time is the time he Travels with his companions, without them–”

“–a Traveler’s time doesn’t matter,” Jeno finishes. He doesn’t know if he’s understanding Taeyong wrongly, or if he doesn’t want to hear what Taeyong is trying to tell him, “Why are you saying this?”

Taeyong’s expression is wistful, “We’re not asking you to choose.”

Jeno can’t stop the sharp exhale that leaves his lungs. _Choose? _He steps away from the island, and immediately, Taeyong’s arms are around him, stopping him, his thoughts. He’s grounded to Taeyong’s narrow frame, and without thinking, his own hands find their way around Taeyong’s waist.

_Choose? _He can’t choose. He can’t _leave_. Are they asking him to? Where would he go?

“We just have to be prepared,” Taeyong says. One of his hands find their way to Jeno’s hair, calming him with soft touches, “What if you find Renjun again tomorrow? You’ve told us about how–strongly you feel towards him, Jeno, we have to be ready if you want to–leave us.”

“I don’t want that,” Jeno says, a little too roughly. Taeyong continues to sooth him anyway, “I–I don’t even know where he is, if he even remembers me–I can’t be thinking of _leaving _you.”

“I know.” Taeyong says, “I know.”

“We didn’t even–get to talk about what we should be. What–we are.”

Jeno swallows thickly, shutting his eyes tight. There, he sees the memory of Renjun’s glassy stare the day he left for the second time. The three hours they’d spent together did nothing but renewed his want to get to Renjun more, his hope to see Renjun again, his desire to understand what this is between them. At the end of it, he hadn’t wanted to leave and Renjun didn’t want him to leave–but his pocketwatch had buzzed, and Jeno knew time was up.

“Are you Portaling back to Donghyuck?” Renjun had asked, watching Jeno key the numbers in. “You’ll find him this way?”

The pocketwatch felt foreign in Jeno’s hand, “Yes.”

“Okay,” Renjun murmured. He wavered, but rushed forward to hug Jeno once more, wished him journey mercies. He stayed until Jeno felt that same pull of the Portal that brought him home

Taeyong listens to him recounts this, doesn’t speak when Jeno takes a deep breath, collecting himself. Eventually, he offers, “Some things have no explanation.” Taeyong still holds Jeno close, “Feeling the way you feel about Renjun–there’s no need for an explanation.”

“But why–”

“Why are things the way they are?” Taeyong gives him a tight squeeze before letting him go, watches Jeno, “Not everything has to be explained, not everything has a reason.” Once he deems Jeno alright, he returns to his corner of the island, picking his mug back up, “You could say the same thing about Doyoung picking me off the street.”

Jeno gnaws on the inside of his cheek, remembering that night like it’d been yesterday.

“He didn’t need to take me in,” Taeyong says. “To this day, he still doesn’t know why he did what he did. He loves me, I know that now–but he didn’t know that the night we met,” he laughs, recalling it fondly, “Maybe it was out of the goodness of his heart, or the fact that he saw my pocketwatch and took pity on me–I don’t know.”

“When you first met him, did you–feel anything?”

“I think I was passed out when he found me,” Taeyong murmurs. “Didn’t know where I was, what time I was in until the morning after. I was surprised, of course, to be picked up by another Traveler, but I–I was thankful.” He pokes his thin arm into the cookie jar, fishing out another, “Though, I think I–know what you’re talking about.”

Jeno takes a sip of his tea, speaks over the edge of his mug, “You do?”

“It’s like a gravitational pull, isn’t it,” Taeyong asks, more like a statement. His lips curve at the corners, “Like you can’t help but drawing yourself close to them.”

“Yeah.” Jeno thinks about Renjun’s touches, how they still feel like fire on his skin, “Something like that.” Taeyong hums, satisfied; Jeno falls back against the counter, whispering, “What do I do?”

“Wait,” Taeyong says. “Portal however much you want, however much your energy lets you to, but other than that, there’s nothing else you can do but wait.”

“And what should I do when I see him again?” Jeno grips the mug, “If I see him again?”

“Decide what you want to do–”

“I don’t want to leave the family.”

Taeyong’s shoulders drop, “You don’t have to leave the family, Jeno, I promise.” His cheeks are full of cookie, but he continues anyway, “We’re just worried it’s going to take a toll on you. You’re free to leave us and come back whenever you want–we will always be here for you.”

“But I’ll have eternity with him when we figure this out, when I find out how to Portal to him.” Jeno doesn’t understand why they’re even talking about choosing _sides, _“I’ll be able to live in our time and his. I’ll figure it out, I have time–all I have is time and–”

“We don’t have as much as time as you think we do, Jeno.” Taeyong says this tenderly, as if he were talking to a child, and in a way, he is. Jeno clamps his mouth shut. “We are not gods, we are merely Travelers of time, nothing is ever certain in the world we live in. It may seem like we have an abundance of it, but we are not immune to losing it. We have time and we don’t–it’s the trials of a Traveler.”

Jeno doesn’t know he’s crying until Taeyong drops the cookie, rushing to him once more to envelope him into a tighter hug that before. Maybe it’s the realization of how things are meant to be, of how one day this will all end, of how powerless he is in the face of life–Traveler or not.

“I thought I heard you–what’s going on?”

Jeno sniffles even louder, embarrassed at his naivety, and he feels Taeyong twist around in his arms, hissing angrily, “I cannot be_lieve _you made me have this conversation with him!”

“What?” Doyoung is here now too, arms around Jeno’s shoulders, “I–I said talk to him, not make him cry!”

“And I said he wasn’t _ready_!”

Jeno calms when Doyoung runs a hand soothingly down his back, hearing them bicker when he’s standing between them, feeling the world return to him again. Eventually, he does relax a little, and refuses Taeyong’s offer for more tea.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Jeno nods, ducking his head low, but he knows his puffy eyes are too obvious to conceal.

“I know this is all hard to take in,” Doyoung commiserates, squeezing Jeno’s shoulder. “And I know it’s pointless to tell you now, but–don’t worry.”

_Right_.

“Everything will work itself out,” Taeyong tells him.

“And even if it doesn’t,” Doyoung says, “You will always have us.”

That, Jeno thinks, is the only thing he can ever be sure of in this life.

For now.

+

**1999**

Donghyuck shoves his hands into his pockets, “How long are we going to stay here for?”

“I don’t know.”

Donghyuck casts him a glance, “Did you plan to meet him here again?”

Jeno nods.

“Are we in the wrong time?” Donghyuck picks up the napkin beside his finished hot latte, “Or is sitting here for hours exactly what we Traveled for?”

“I’ve been back to this cafe every single time I Portaled back,” Jeno says. He looks out the window, then back at the drink before him. The hot chocolate stays untouched, “No matter how close I am to the day we last met, he’s never here.”

“Maybe it’s a warp,” Donghyuck says. “Or maybe he’s just busy lately.”

Jeno doesn’t know what to hope for, “Maybe.” His gaze returns to the cup on the table, refusing to pick it up, refusing to have it in his hands. Reluctantly, “Should we go?”

Donghyuck waits, then nods, rises to his feet, “We’ve been here all day, Lee. If he were here, we’d have seen him–sorry.”

“No, yeah,” Jeno stands, stretches his arms over his head. “You’re right.”

They head out of the café, and Donghyuck turns his face towards the sun. After a quiet moment, he wonders, “Will you ever stop looking?”

Jeno doesn’t know.

“You know,” Donghyuck hums, “I’ve never seen anyone try this hard for love.”

_Love? _Love.

“It’s admirable, I guess.” Donghyuck shrugs, “Borderline insane, but mostly admirable.”

Jeno makes a face, “Thanks.”

“I mean it as a compliment.” Donghyuck sniffs, “Love makes people do–all sorts of things.”

Jeno tucks his wallet away, “You sound like you’ve got plenty experience.” Donghyuck turns away, “Are you ever going to tell me about them?”

Immediately, “No.” Jeno shrinks inwardly. He’d thought that Donghyuck’d trust him enough by now, but there’s still a hole in his past he refuses to share. Taeyong tells him not all secrets are meant to be shared, but they’re family–brothers, aren’t they?

Donghyuck sighs, “Maybe one day. It’s not a good story anyway.”

“It’s not?”

Donghyuck gives him a hard look, “If it were, he’d be here with me, wouldn’t he?”

Jeno shuts his mouth. Quietly, “You don’t have to tell me anything.”

Donghyuck considers that, “Once you’ve got this all sorted out,” he gestures vaguely to Jeno, “I’ll tell you about it. I’m just–not ready to talk about it.”

Distantly, Jeno wonders–if this all goes south, would he ever want to think about it? He wouldn’t. He would never want to think, much less _talk_ about it.

“Taeyong tells me you don’t want to move,” Donghyuck says, changes the subject. They start their way down the street, “It won’t change anything, you know. Your chances won’t be affected by it–it can’t possibly be any worse than it is now, blindly Portaling through time.” When Jeno doesn’t answer again, he nods, “But you’re worried.”

It’s been better lately, the worrying. Doyoung says it’s fine to be worried every now and then.

_It makes us human. _

“Right, well,” Donghyuck sighs, “Before we get out of here, let’s get them some of those apple pastry puffs for the old folks back home–they haven’t stopped talking about it since the last time we Traveled here.”

“Alright,” Jeno says.

And they go.

+

**2013**

Jeno hurries.

He follows the way he has been over the last few times Portaling back to the amusement park. Down two streets and left on the intersection, he finds himself standing in front of where the quaint little café used to be. The sight of the _For Lease _sign on the door isn’t too much of a surprise; he’d been here a few weeks ago a few years ahead–the café was unavoidably replaced another more era-fitting equivalent.

He checks his phone, _19:23_

He promised he would be back before midnight, leaving him another five hours to wander. The thought of it isn’t too daunting, but Jeno wishes Donghyuck agreed to tag along. Granted, Donghyuck did join him on his voyage through time during their first few jumps, but it’s limited, how interesting the same few streets can be–even if they’d been Portaling through the different years.

Going off an instinct, he turns down left on another block, marveling at how the streets have changed since he’s last been here. Consistently returning to the same streets he’d spent his last three hours with Renjun three years ago isn’t a fantastic plan, he admits. In linear time, Renjun might not even be here anymore, but it’s the only breadcrumb has left.

Without it, he’s reduced to having no clue once again.

Jeno goes wherever without a plan, and it’s twenty minutes later that he passes a shop selling packets of fried chicken. His stomach grumbles in defiance when he thinks not to stop, and Jeno assents, detouring off his unplanned route.

There’s a small line out front, a couple of school kids and some teenagers chattering amongst themselves. Jeno joins the queue, digging through his pockets and hopes for spare change. By the time he gets to the counter, thankfully, he’s conjured enough for one fried chicken fillet and a bottle of water. The cashier takes his name and directs him to wait by the collection counter.

Jeno takes a seat by the corner of the tiny shop, tucking his change away and twisting the bottle cap open. The other tables don’t seem to notice of his presence, which is great, and to be expected–he didn’t stick out so much like a sore thumb that last time he’d Traveled too far into the past, feeling like every single thing he did was magnified.

He waits patiently, entertaining himself with the conversations happening around him, keeping an ear out for his name to be called. He fiddles with his bottle, absentmindedly listening to the two girls sitting at the table by him discuss celebrity gossip.

“Number fifty-two!” Jeno looks up, then back at his little paper slip. _Fifty-five. _The boy behind the collection counter looks around before calling once more, “Number fifty-two!”

No one steps up. Curious, Jeno peers at the small crowd of people standing outside the store. None of them seem to move at the call.

“Fifty-two for Park Jisung!”

Park Jisung scurries forward then. He’s tall and lanky, but there’s a clumsiness to his gait that Jeno wouldn’t have guessed him to have. His hair catches Jeno’s eyes, a pale sort of purple, when he passes to collect his order of three packets from the counter. Jeno hears him apologize softly, voice low. As fast as he’d appeared, Park Jisung is out of the shop again.

The next few numbers fly by, and it’s not long before Jeno is back on the street, taking his first bite. It’s tasty, a good call, and he makes a mental note to search for this back home. He slows down when he reaches another intersection, uncertain on which way he’d come from earlier. It’s leaning a little more towards the left when he sees that same shade of purple in a distance, and Jeno pauses.

Pauses at the familiarity.

He moves, pulled towards the boy that’d so briefly passed him earlier. He doesn’t recognize the face, no, neither does he with the hair. It’s a color he hasn’t seen before, yes, and he certainly doesn’t remember ever seeing it before.

_Park Jisung?_

Jeno gets close enough to see another boy, a little shorter, hair a light shade of honey brown. They have drinks and snacks in the bags between them, standing a little off the sidewalk, having what looks to be a serious discussion. Jeno hides himself partially behind a streetlight, listening closely.

“–offer to bring more food and he says _no_, but when we get there there’s no food!”

“I know,” the brunette says. He sighs, but lets Park Jisung take the paper bags from him, “But you know how he is–especially this time of the year. And he’s just moved back into the city–you have to give him time, Jisung.”

Jeno can’t place it. What is it? Maybe a picture?

“I just don’t understand,” Jisung groans. “He wasn’t like this the last time it happened.”

The brunette clicks his tongue, “You’re forgetting that we didn’t know him when it first happened. Think about it, it’s only been a couple of years. He hasn’t moved on from it.”

“Clearly.” Jisung simmers when he receives a pointed look, “It’s dangerous for him to move back here, you know that! What if someone recognizes him?”

_What is it what is it what is it?_

“He didn’t used to live in this neighborhood,” the brunette says. “He lived two hours away from here.”

“Then why–”

“It’s really assuring how quickly you think people move on from breakups, Jisung.” The boy pretends to huff, “Makes me wonder how long you’d take to find someone if we ever break up.”

Jisung’s expression flattens, “Okay, first of all, they didn’t exactly break _up_. He left, didn’t he? And second of all, how could you say that!”

The boy rolls his eyes, “You’re such a baby sometimes.”

“I’m a–”

“We’ve been together hundreds of years, Ji. If you think there’s even a sliver of chance for either of us to end up with someone else by the end of time,” the boy remarks, “Boy, do I have some news for you.”

_Hundreds_, Jeno stops. _Hundreds?_

“And he’ll be fine, alright, stop worrying. I told you he didn’t used to live here.” The boy shifts, “He was on a trip with his friends. To some amusement park nearby.”

_Park Jisung._

Jeno can’t believe his ears, can’t believe his eyes. He looks at the brunette and it clicks like he’s just ran into an old friend, _Na Jaemin_.

Renjun.

Jeno very nearly trips over a trashcan to rush over to them, moving without thinking, “Excuse me–”

They turn at his intrusion, confusion and surprise evident. For Immortals, they don’t seem to deal with unexpected strangers well.

“Are you–” Jeno can’t hear anything but his heart in his ears, “Are you Jaemin? Na Jaemin?”

He’s given a hard stare for a moment before he’s told, “I am.” By his side, Park Jisung stands a little straighter, foot coming forward in front of Jaemin’s, “I’m sorry, I don’t think I recognize–”

“I’m–I’m Jeno. Lee Jeno.”

It would’ve been comical, the matching looks of shock and disbelief that immediately colors their expression, but Jeno isn’t thinking about that–he _did _it. Three years of Portaling and he’s done it–he’s found–

“You’re Renjun’s Traveler?” Jisung stares, mouth parted in a small _o_.

_Renjun’s Traveler_, Jeno’s feels his soul slip from his body, “I–I am.”

Jisung balks, “You’re _real_?”

“I am, yes, I–” He nods, fervently, not knowing how else to prove his legitimacy, “I–last met him in a café near here, and I’ve been coming back since then looking for him–”

“Oh my god, you _are _real–”

Jeno blinks, but Jaemin is nudging the boy in the ribs harshly, pulling a quiet groan from the taller boy. “What he means is,” Jaemin is smiling now–the epitome of brilliance, as Renjun had described, “Renjun is here.”

“He is?” Jeno whispers, because anything louder than that is just simply impossible, “He’s here?”

Jaemin nods, “He’s home; an apartment not far from here.”

Jeno can’t think.

“Come on,” Jaemin hooks his arm with Jeno’s, already pulling his lifeless body along, like they’d been the best of best friends in another life, “We’ll take you to him.”

“This,” Jisung scoffs, “is _so _much better than surprising him with fried chicken.”

As promised, the apartment is not too far.

“Do you think he’ll cry?” Jisung asks. The elevator is taking forever, but Jeno knows it’s just his adrenaline that wants him to run up twenty flights of stairs. He pushes the button again, “Faint, even?”

“Whatever he does, do not laugh, Park Jisung,” Jaemin warns. The doors slide open and they step in, “If he declares war on you, I won’t be able to save you. Correction, I won’t even try to.”

“I’m not worried,” Jisung shrugs. The lift starts to move and Jeno is thankful he didn’t take the stairs; he can’t feel his legs. “Now that Jeno’s back, he won’t be so mopey all the time. We’ll finally be able to go to a café without him getting upset over me ordering a hot chocolate.”

Jaemin casts a quick glance over his shoulder, indifferent when he sees Jeno trying to shrink further into the corner of the increasingly small elevator. He doesn’t glare nor say anything to take a stab at the clear indication that Jeno isn’t here to stay–not for good, at least–and Jeno breathes a sigh of relief when the lift comes to a smooth stop.

“Here,” Jaemin says, heading down the hall and taking the first turn on the right. It’s apartment 1123. He turns to Jeno, who seems to have lost all function in every aspect, “Do you need some time?”

Jeno withers at Jaemin’s kindness; he didn’t deserve it at all. He’s found Renjun only to leave again before midnight, no plan, no solution, _still_ no idea as to what is happening. The advice of not worrying worked handily up until this very moment.

“Let’s surprise him!” Jisung bounces on his toes, shuffling to have Jeno stand out of the way. He knocks on the door before neither Jaemin nor Jeno can do anything about it.

“Just a second!”

Jeno slumps against the wall, clutching on to the hem of his jacket tightly. He didn’t prepare for this, he isn’t prepared for it at all. What is he supposed to say? What is he supposed to do? What _can _he do? The last time they’d met, it’d been an accident but now–

The door swings open.

“I thought you guys said you’d be late.” Jeno can’t see him, but he hears Renjun close–so painfully close. He can’t hold still, hand itching for Renjun’s again, “I just started a load of laundry, so if you hear the–”

“We have a surprise,” Jisung bursts out, excitement tangible, though more over the idea of a surprise than Jeno’s actual presence. “A really _good _surprise!”

“What? What is it?”

“We ran into–”

“Guess!” Jisung beams, he turns to Jaemin, “We have to make him guess!”

“Jisung–”

“What are you guys talking about? Who did you run into?”

Renjun steps across the threshold of his apartment then, and he comes face-to-face with Jeno. There’s less than an arm’s length between them now, but Jeno still feels like they’re worlds apart. He doesn’t get to find out just how much Renjun’s changed when he forgets himself, rushing forward to hug Renjun fiercely.

The hug goes unreturned for a moment, the gears in Renjun’s mind twisting hard to understand the situation, but then he’s clinging onto Jeno in the second after. He breathes hard, chest heaving against Jeno’s in a rapid rise and fall.

“You’re here,” Renjun whispers. Jeno closes his eyes and nods, not trusting his voice to work, “You’re_ really _here.”

“It was _so _amazing, okay, so I went to get the chicken and I swear I didn’t know that they were going to take so long, but then they called my name and I was like–”

“Alright, Ji,” Jaemin coughs, cutting him off. He takes Jisung’s hand in his, starts to pull the taller boy away, “We’re going to give you guys some time alone so–Jun, call me tomorrow, okay?”

Jeno feels Renjun nod in favor of speaking.

“But wait, weren’t we going to watch that new movie–”

“Not tonight, Ji. You’ll just have to be satisfied hanging out with only me tonight.”

Jeno hears their voices fade down the hallway, encasing them in silence when it finally fades out. He doesn’t move to pull away and Renjun doesn’t either, fingers digging tightly into Jeno’s shoulders.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Renjun whispers.

Jeno, in a single breath, “I can’t believe it either.”

Somewhere down the hall, they hear a door unlock. Renjun hugs him tightly once, and pulls back, face inches away from Jeno’s, “You–should–probably come in.”

Jeno follows, keeping his hand with Renjun’s even as he shuts the door and lets Jeno kick off his shoes.

“How did you even get here?” Renjun leads him down the short entryway, heading straight for the couch. Still dizzy, Jeno fumbles to avoid bumping his shins against the coffee table, falling heavily to sit beside Renjun. Their knees touch, hands kept between them, “I mean–how did you end up with Jaemin and Jisung, of all people?”

“They felt familiar,” Jeno says, not quite believing it himself. Renjun listens, his hair bouncing as he nods, “And I overheard them talking and discussing–how you moved here. Even though it’d be dangerous for you–if you were caught.”

Renjun shakes his head, “I wasn’t going to get caught. My last neighborhood–”

“–was two hours from here,” Jeno says.

Over words, Renjun takes Jeno in his arms again. Jeno returns it, sinking into Renjun’s hold and trying his best to commit everything to memory; the piece of framed art above a wall shelf, the fake plant in the corner of the room, the magazines stacked neatly on the table. The picture frames neatly arranged on the entertainment unit, the portable speaker shaped like polar bear sitting by the standing lamp, the canvas bag hanging from it.

The scent of lavender in Renjun’s hair, the touch of his slender hand, the beat of their hearts.

Inevitably, the silence is broken, “How long can you stay tonight?”

Jeno doesn’t even want to look at his watch, “Midnight.”

That makes Renjun laugh; Jeno moves away to look at him, puzzled. He grins, reaching to tuck Jeno’s hair behind an ear, “You’re like Cinderella.”

“Cinderella.”

“Yes,” Renjun rests his palm on Jeno’s cheek, his thumb moving lightly over the highs of it. Kindly, “Always running off when time is up.”

Jeno covers Renjun’s hand with his own, leans into it. Softly, “I missed you.”

“I did too.” Renjun shifts closer, hooking a leg over Jeno’s, “How long has it been–in your time?”

“Three years.”

“It’s been seventeen, for me.” Renjun gives him another smile when Jeno frowns, “Which is far shorter than the last time, so I didn’t mind it at all.”

“You didn’t?”

Renjun rolls his eyes, “I mean–I did, but I don’t want you to feel bad about it.” He can’t stop smiling and neither can Jeno, “All that matters–is that you came back.”

“I told you I would,” Jeno whispers.

In almost quiet amazement, “You really did.” He rests his head against the back of the couch, “Does this mean it’s the first time we’re having dinner together?”

Jeno’s heart flutters–_flutters–_at the thought of it, “I think so.”

“What do you feel like having?” Renjun takes his hand back, fiddles with Jeno’s fingers instead, “I was planning on making something simple for dinner, but–”

“You cook?”

Renjun lifts a brow, “I do.” He shrugs, “Not exceptionally well, I don’t think, but living alone for a couple of years has me learning the basics.”

“And you’d cook for me?”

“Of course,” Renjun pauses. He pinches Jeno’s ring finger, “You’re you.”

“Thank you,” Jeno mumbles.

He bites on his lip and thinks of what to say; it isn’t something that comes easy, considering how it feels like he knows Renjun, yet at the same time not at all. It didn’t help how he’s so easily landed himself in Renjun’s apartment, where everything is so distinctly _Renjun_–Jeno wants to keep it all in his pocket and take it home with him.

“I did some grocery shopping today for dinner because Jaemin and Jisung were going to spend the night here, so I really could cook, if you wanted,” Renjun says. “We planned only on watching a couple of movies too, not much else.”

He informs Jeno of this like they hadn’t just spent years apart, like they’d only missed each other over the weekend. He says it like he’s spent the last year telling Jeno about his days, about his plans, about the most mundane things friends don’t usually bother to share. Strangely enough, Jeno likes it this way, likes the idea of picking up wherever they’ve left off.

_Our time_.

“Which ones?”

“We were thinking of having a Marvel marathon.”

Jeno has always kept up with those religiously when they were released. Absentmindedly, he wonders what it would be like if they could watch one together in a theatre–sharing popcorn, a drink, candies, maybe some kisses too.

Wait.

_Wait._

“I really enjoyed the ones they’ve already released,” Renjun doesn’t take any note with Jeno’s sudden inability to breathe, “But I think my favorite’s the Iron Man trilogy.”

Jeno chokes on a breath for an entirely different reason.

“What?” Renjun blinks, “You don’t like Iron Man?”

“I do,” Jeno says, trying to contain himself. _Oh_, the hours he’s spent lamenting over his favorite actor’s fateful demise. Pointedly, “I just wished I could see one of them with you. One I haven’t already seen–in my time.”

“Like together?” Jeno nods; Renjun beams, “Maybe we could, one day.”

“We could.”

“You’d have to jump through a million Portals then.”

“It might take me a million years.”

“Well, I _am_ immortal,” Renjun glances at him, “I could wait another couple of years for you.”

Jeno finds, that scarily, he would too. Forget the years he’s lived without Renjun, the days he’s spent looking at Doyoung and Taeyong and Donghyuck, thinking he can’t ever live without them, the days he thinks to give up on Renjun, the times he thinks that none of his Traveling will ever be worth it–everything flies out the window with Renjun sitting here before him, and Jeno finds that that is even scarier.

He loses himself in Renjun.

“Jeno?”

He would give it a little more thought, but his present self is too distracted.

It’s absolutely _intoxicating_, how close Renjun is to him. Jeno thinks he’s thinking up things when Renjun nears–or maybe he’s the one that’s closing the distance, he isn’t sure. Renjun’s gaze flits once to Jeno’s lips and he licks his own. Time slows for them both and Jeno finds himself leaning forward too. He gives Renjun enough time to pull away, enough time to stop them from cementing their relationship. He stops before they’re _too_ close; but he can’t stop staring, can’t hide the fact that Renjun’s lips are the only thing on his mind right now.

They’re a little thinner on the top and thicker on the bottom, shiny from how Renjun keeps wetting them with his tongue.

Jeno feels his heart shoot up into the back of his throat.

They remain in that standstill, breathing in each other’s exhales, until Renjun squeezes him once where they’re hands are connected. It’s like a spark that runs through his veins, up his arms and straight to his heart. Jeno glances and all it takes is the slightest nod–he surges forward to kiss Renjun chastely.

It’s a short kiss, just the press of their lips together.

Renjun is staring when Jeno pulls away. His lips are parted, and he squeezes Jeno’s hands again. Automatically, Jeno gives him another kiss, this one lasting a second longer than the last.

It’s sweet, Jeno decides. The softness of Renjun’s lips against his, the hint of apple when he leans close and breathes in deep, the gentle brush of their noses. He isn’t sure if this is his first kiss, but by creators above, he’ll never settle for anything else.

Renjun brings their hands close to his chest, squeezes it again and Jeno goes. But this time, Renjun pulls his hands free, in favor of cupping Jeno’s face instead. His hands are cold against Jeno’s cheeks, but his lips are warm. They move in tandem, slow, cautious, and Jeno wouldn’t want anything else.

Renjun breaks the kiss by hiding his face away, arms tucked between their chests.

For a full minute, Jeno thinks they should talk about this. They have to, haven’t they? What will they do now? What could they do?

There’s an answer to this, and Jeno doesn’t like it.

“Taeyong talked to me. About staying here with you.”

Renjun stills in his arms.

He takes it as a sign to go on, “I could stay here with you, in your time. That way, I’d never have to leave and lose you in my time again. We could–create our own time.”

Renjun braces a palm on Jeno’s chest and pushes him off enough to look him in the eye. He looks at Jeno, a mix of surprise and amazement, “You would do that?”

“I could,” Jeno says. He holds Renjun’s gaze; he doesn’t want to let anything change his mind, he needs to figure out what this is. He can’t live Portaling every other day, hoping to find Renjun again, spurred on by some innate need that doesn’t even explain his desires. “I could stay here. With you.”

The joy on Renjun’s face lasts for only the briefest moment, “What about your family?”

The words stick in Jeno’s throat, _I’ll have to leave them._

“You can’t leave them,” Renjun says. He pushes himself fully off Jeno, shuffling back to put them both at a distance, “You can’t be thinking of doing that. I can’t make you do that–for me.”

Jeno wants to argue, but he doesn’t either. He doesn’t want to leave Doyoung or Taeyong or Donghyuck; he doesn’t want to leave Renjun either.

“What if I never make it back to you?” Jeno speaks past the tightness in his chest, “Now that we’ve–now that we’re–_together_,” Renjun’s defenses drop, “What if I leave tonight and never see you again?”

“Whatever it is, you can’t leave your family,” Renjun decides. He gets up and Jeno follows, on Renjun’s heels as he stalks into the kitchen, taking a whirlwind with him, “You can’t do that, I won’t let you.”

Jeno wants to split into two. Exasperated, “Are you saying I should leave?”

“_No_.” Renjun turns on his heel, but he lifts a hand to keep Jeno from nearing. He looks at anywhere but Jeno’s face, “I mean–not now, don’t leave now.”

“Then what should I do?” Jeno asks, trying not to lose his bearings.

All he wishes for is for someone to just tell him what to _do _because he isn’t sure for how long more can he live a life like this. Portaling, worrying, losing his energy–thinking, thinking, _thinking._ He wishes Taeyong’d told him to give it up, wishes Doyoung’d told him to put family first, wishes Donghyuck’d told him it’s a waste of time–wishes Renjun’d tell him to stay.

“Give me your pocketwatch.”

The request makes Jeno pause, “What?”

“Your pocketwatch.” Renjun flips his hand around, palm up, “Give it to me.”

Without another second, Jeno does. He pulls the silver pocketwatch and hands it to Renjun, puzzled but unquestioning. Renjun brings it close to his face, examining it intently. He runs his fingers along the inscription on the side, along the tiny sapphire stone on the front of it. It takes a bit of a struggle, but he manages to open it on his own.

“This,” Renjun says. He points at the string of six alphanumeric characters engraved clearly on the side of the dial, “This is your identification number?”

Jeno blinks, “Yes.”

“Has this always been your number?” Renjun’s bright eyes study him, “Every one has a different one, right?”

“Yes, but I don’t understand–”

“What if _I _had a pocketwatch?” Renjun closes lid of it, grasps it tightly in his hand, “You’d be able to Portal to me, wouldn’t you? I wouldn’t be able to use it, but you can find me, can’t you? Just like how you Portal back to your family–all you need is a number, right? Couldn’t you use that to find me in your time?”

He isn’t sure what he expected when he handed Renjun the rusty old pocketwatch, but it certainly isn’t _this_.

All at once, Jeno wonders what the _hell_ has he been doing.

“Say something,” Renjun whispers.

But Jeno can’t.

He turns to Renjun robotically, feeling as if someone’s wrenched the life out of him. Renjun reaches for him, tries to shake him back to life, but all Jeno can do is _watch, _as if his soul’s floated from his body and he’s watching the scene unfold before him. It’s a mix of emotions that ignites in Jeno and he doesn’t know which to feel first; regret at the fact he–_nobody_, not a single Traveler he’d come across­–hadn’t thought of his, astonished at the fact that it’s an idea so unheard of that he thinks it could probably work, worried at the fact that it might turn horribly wrong because he’s never heard of it being done–giving a pocketwatch to an Immortal.

What if it creates a glitch? What if Immortals aren’t supposed to hold a pocketwatch? What would happen?

But it’s none of that.

It’s joy that he feels.

The unbridled and unexplainable exhilaration that threatens to have him collapsing to the ground at any moment, as if the ground is ready to be yanked from under his feet.

Just pure _excitement _at the chance of this actually, seriously working out.

“Jeno, please say something.” Renjun’s touch is even warmer now on his neck, “Did I say something wrong? It won’t work, is that what you’re thinking?”

Jeno’s hand shoots up to grab onto Renjun, and for moments more, he struggles to speak, taken speechless. Renjun searches his eyes, searches for an explanation to his frozen state of self.

“You’re brilliant,” Jeno manages.

Renjun’s eyes widen and he lets out a small breath, relief.

Jeno forgets all about time and pace and whatever invisible rules over dating Donghyuck’d tried to teach him; he kisses Renjun. He pushes until Renjun’s back bumps into the refrigerator and he squeaks in protest. Jeno pulls back, just enough to apologize. Easily, the apology is accepted and Renjun guides their lips back together, kissing Jeno in ways he’s never been kissed, in ways he’s never thought to be kissed. He drops his hands to hold Renjun by the waist, muffling his pleasant surprise when he feels Renjun shiver against him.

“Come back to me again.”

Renjun tells him this later into the night. They’ve spent the entire night kissing and whispering and relishing in each other’s innocuous touches, and while Jeno thinks they could’ve spent it talking, he doesn’t mind it this way anyway. They managed to watch a few movies, but Jeno’s already forgotten all of them, having shamelessly watched Renjun the entire evening instead.

Renjun kisses him again now, hands tight around his, unwilling to let go, “And when you do–”

“The pocketwatch. I will,” Jeno promises, “I will.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Renjun tells him, kisses him again. He moves onto hold Jeno by the wrist, keep Jeno from Portaling just yet, treating every kiss like their last, “Remember, okay?”

Jeno smiles, thumb hovering the dial, “You make it sound like I don’t think of you every day.”

Renjun parts his lips, and Jeno knows what he’s about to say, knows what Renjun doesn’t say. Instead, he kisses Jeno again and it doesn’t matter, because Jeno already hears the words echo in his own heart.

“I’ll see you again,” he says. “I promise.”

“Okay.” Renjun lets go. He smiles a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, not even in the slightest, “Okay.”

+

**2022**

“Are you sure this is the right place?”

Donghyuck looks up from his phone–Google maps pinging blue–to glare at Jeno, “Do you see any _other _pocketwatch stores nearby?”

Jeno forgoes answering and pushes the door open.

He gets a gold one, after too long a time of deciding. He thinks it would suit Renjun well, and it comes with a small bloodstone that sits lavishly atop the dial. With another ten-minute wait and a long whine from Donghyuck, he gets it engraved on the side. He doesn’t let Donghyuck see what he’s requested for, keeping the pocketwatch safely in a velvet box the moment it’s handed to him by the horologist. In his wallet is a card, thinner than a credit card, with the code _03A2ST _printed neatly on it.

“You’re moving pretty fast,” Donghyuck comments, eyeing the pocketwatch–Renjun’s pocketwatch–Jeno’s holding onto so dearly. He makes a scoffing noise, “Should Doyoung and Taeyong be preparing for a dowry to be sent?”

Jeno takes his own pocketwatch out, “Waiting centuries is hardly moving fast.”

“You didn’t wait them.” Donghyuck snorts, “In comparison, you’re moving at the speed of light.”

“Joke’s on you because–” Jeno keys Doyoung’s code, waiting long enough before Portaling off to turn and stick his tongue out at Donghyuck, “Time stops at the speed of light.”

“Lee Jeno, you _little_–”

“It could work,” Taeyong says, examining the pocketwatch Jeno brings home. He picks it up, flips it around, “I don’t see why it wouldn’t. The logic is there.”

“Are you going to try and find him in our time?” Doyoung hovers over Taeyong’s shoulder, eyeing the pocketwatch, “We don’t know if Immortals have the same cores we do, Jeno. Him owning a pocketwatch–it could mean that you’ll return to the exact day you hand this to him.”

“Unless you enter it our time’s coordinates too.” Taeyong grabs his pocketwatch from around his neck–it’s one without a cover, a simple one that dates even further back than Doyoung’s. He twists the crown, entering today’s date, “If you did that, wouldn’t it lead you to him in our time?”

“I don’t know,” Jeno says. He takes Renjun’s pocketwatch back, tucks it snugly back into the cushion, “But I promised I’d bring one to him the next time I see him, so even if it doesn’t work…”

“Why don’t you just go to the apartment building he’s staying in? Surely if it were only a few years ago, he wouldn’t move–”

“We tried that,” Taeyong shakes his head. “He doesn’t live there right now–it was another tenant when we checked it out.”

Doyoung presses his lips together tightly, “That doesn’t sound like something we should be messing with.”

Jeno swallows thickly, reminded suddenly of the possible repercussions.

Taeyong clears his throat, “Well, whatever it is, it’s happening–so, Jeno, are you just going to give it to him? In this box?”

Jeno stops picking at his fingernails, “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Doyoung hums. Jeno doesn’t miss the way his eyes flit to the silver band on Taeyong’s ring finger, “It looks like it’s a pretty big deal.”

“Told you,” Donghyuck sing-songs, from his spot by the stove. He looks over his shoulder to give Jeno a smug look, turning away before Jeno can think of a smart enough retort. “Best you guys prepare a speech, a dowry–hire a wedding planner, do all that _Say Yes to the Dress _stuff.”

Jeno grabs a tortilla chip and aims it straight for the back of Donghyuck’s head. Taeyong clicks his tongue in disapproval, shifting the bowl of chips out of Jeno’s reach.

“I’m just going to give it to him,” Jeno decides.

Taeyong nods, “You should. I really think it could work.”

Jeno opens his mouth to agree but Doyoung beats him to it, “But what if it doesn’t?”

“Then he’ll think of something else, we all will,” Taeyong says. He pushes the velvet box to Jeno with a warm smile, “But I’ve got a really good feeling about this.”

Donghyuck snorts, “You had a good feeling that pizza parlor place’d be open tonight, but look where we are, hey.”

Doyoung laughs, loud and unrestrained, scampering off when Taeyong reaches for a handful of chips and hurls it at his lover’s face.

+

**2014**

The next time Jeno finds Renjun, it is two months since the last time they’d met.

“You seem to be getting better at this,” Renjun marvels, letting Jeno into his apartment. They don’t get too far from the entryway because Renjun insists for a kiss, sighing softly against Jeno’s lips, “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Jeno says. On some level, he feels guilty for saying it, considering how much longer Renjun waits for him than he does. Not that his days aren’t trials, and time is time, but two months is still far shorter than twelve.

“You’re crazy,” Renjun laughs, when he says just that. He curls an arm around Jeno and steals a long-awaited hug, “I’d be upset if you didn’t miss me.”

Jeno sneaks a kiss to Renjun’s neck, laughing when the smaller boy squirms. “I’d actually Portaled back here a couple of times before,” he says, letting Renjun pull away. “And there were times the tenant wasn’t you.”

Renjun stares at him, “I’ve been living here since the last time we met. That was last year.”

Jeno shrugs, already surrendered to the living complexity that is time, “I got a couple of odd looks, but that was it. And I’d ran into Normals, so they’d have forgotten me anyway.” He licks his lips, “I’m actually surprised–that you remember me.”

“Have I ever forgotten you?”

“No, never. It was–just something Doyoung warned me of. Glitches happen when Travelers Portal too much to the same time.”

Renjun mulls this over in silence and Jeno takes the time to appreciate the apartment again; it seems to be as how it was the last time Jeno were here, sans the newly added picture from atop the entertainment center. Jeno picks it up, realizing belatedly that it’s a photoprint of them both–Renjun’d been playing with Jeno’s phone (which at the time, had been interesting technology), snapping pictures of them both and fiddling around with the filters.

Jeno still has one of them set as his lock screen, much to Donghyuck’s (faux) disgust.

“Tea?”

Jeno places the picture frame back, turning to meet Renjun by the coffee table. As he goes, he’s suddenly reminded of the velvet box weighing heavily in his pocket. He reaches to pull it out, stuttering to a stop when Donghyuck’s words bounces around his mind.

_You’re moving pretty fast._

Jeno gnaws on his lip.

_No._

Time is relative. It always is.

“It’s a sweet drink,” Renjun says, misreading Jeno’s hesitance.

“Oh. Sure.”

“Jisung refuses to drink this,” Renjun goes on, pouring some for Jeno, “Says the darkness of it scares him. It drives Jaemin crazy sometimes, you know, because sodas are dark-colored drinks and Jisung has no problem downing those–why are you still standing over there?”

Jeno looks down, “I have it with me.”

Renjun’s frown deepens, then clears. He sets the pitcher and cup down, “What?” He crosses the space between them, his puffy home slippers sliding against marble, “You got it?”

“I do.” He wrenches his hand from his pocket, and Renjun inhales sharply at the reveal of the velvet box, “I went to get it the day after I left.”

Renjun doesn’t take his eyes of it, “Can I see it?”

Jeno hands it to him, albeit without much fanfare. If Renjun was bothered by it, he did a fine job hiding it. Contrarily, he’s absolutely taken by it. He runs his fingers gingerly over the top, opening it with a slowness that has Jeno wanting to reach over and open it on his behalf. Renjun eventually manages to get the pocketwatch out of the box and into his hand, marveling at the gold coat and rope chain.

He gasps again when the lid opens brightly, revealing the dark-face dial. He touches the bloodstone gently, runs his finger over the bumps of the numbers and the ticking second hand, over the smooth edges and the inscription of the identification code.

Jeno’s already memorized it. Made Donghyuck memorize it too, lest he forgets.

Renjun looks at him, and he kitchen floods with some sort of hope Jeno hadn’t thought could be so tangible, “Do you think it’ll work?”

And it’s not the matter of whether it will or not–Renjun is asking if Jeno _believes _in it.

“Yes.” He steps forward, then pauses, “Yes, I do.”

Renjun smiles, clasping the pocketwatch shut. He loops it around his neck easily, rather in awe at it still. He tucks it under his shirt, and Jeno’s cheeks warm at the thought of the pocketwatch flush against Renjun’s bare chest.

It looks like it belongs, the gold beautifully bringing out the jade pendant sitting low on Renjun’s neck.

“I do too,” Renjun says. He hugs Jeno, leans heavily into Jeno, “I really think it’ll work.”

Dinner is had with a tinge of excitement. Of what’s to come, of what could, of the endless opportunities and the freedom they’ll then have. They discuss the movies they’re finally going to watch together, the restaurants Jeno wants to bring them to, the meals Renjun’ll cook for them.

“Will we live together?” Renjun mumbles, “Will I live with your family?”

“We could,” Jeno hums. Under the table, he hooks his ankles with Renjun’s, refusing to spend any time even the slightest apart. “Or I–I have some money saved up too–we could get our own place.”

Renjun considers this seriously. He takes Jeno’s left hand in his, rubbing his thumb over Jeno’s knuckles, “If they wouldn’t mind having me over–I mean, I wouldn’t mind–I don’t know, maybe it would be nice?” He settles, “I wouldn’t want you leaving your family just because of me.”

Jeno rests his chopsticks over the edge of his bowl, sitting up now. He didn’t think Renjun would want to live with his family; Taeyong had asked him about it, asked if they’d talked about it–but with the little time between them, living arrangements hadn’t been one of the topics they’d plan to have over dinner.

“They’d love to have you,” Jeno says, no longer concerned with dinner. “Doyoung’s already thinking of clearing his office out so Donghyuck could stay there, instead of the room he shares with me now. So, you know–_you_ could stay–with me.” He lifts a shoulder, “I just–didn’t know if you’d want to stay with me. With a family. I–I know you said Immortals liked to live alone, so I thought–”

“Yes,” Renjun rushes to say. He sets his chopsticks down too, holding onto Jeno, “I’d love to and it’d–it’d be new to me too–even if it’s just for a week or two? Just to see if it’d work out?”

“Of course,” Jeno smiles, “We’d have all the time to think that through when I–”

“–when you find me.” Renjun falters, “If you find me.”

“I will.” The more he says it aloud, the more he thinks it to be true, “I will find you again, Jun.”

“They’re really excited to meet you, you know?”

Renjun shifts in Jeno’s lap, back against Jeno’s chest. He rests his head on Jeno’s shoulder, tilts his head up, “Are they?”

“They ask about you all the time now,” Jeno harrumphs. He hugs Renjun, a show of petulance, “Especially after I’d gotten the pocketwatch. Taeyong keeps the house in immaculate shape, you know? Lest I bring you home with me one day.”

Renjun shies away, “You’re bluffing.”

“You’ll see,” Jeno laughs.

“I will, won’t I?”

Again, “You will–I just know it.”

“Jun.”

“Hm?”

“I should go.”

Renjun opens his eyes, squinting at the ceiling light, “Now?”

“Yes,” Jeno brushes Renjun’s hair out of his eyes, tangling his fingers with it for a moment, “If I leave now, I’ll Portal to you. I’ll Portal to you–in my time.”

“Now?” Renjun asks again, pushes himself to sit up. There’s an angry pink mark on his cheek from how he’s been sleeping on Jeno’s lap, “You’ll Portal to me now?”

“It’ll still be a few more years for you,” Jeno says. Truthfully, he couldn’t wait to Portal home–to Portal to Renjun. There’d be no more worrying, no more jumping, no more _wishing_. Traveling through time and time again for a chance to see Renjun–Jeno would do it for as long as he could. But having Renjun by his side, living in his time–that would be more than he could ever ask for. He nods, “But yes, I will.”

“Okay.” Renjun gets to his feet, suddenly awake, “Okay.”

“I’ll find you,” Jeno stands. He holds Renjun’s hand, squeezes it. Automatically, Renjun gives him a kiss. “I think I’ve–figured the technicalities out, but even if–I can’t find you through the pocketwatch, I’ll find you again.”

“Okay,” Renjun says. He dives forward for a parting hug, lips pressed to the soft patch of skin just under Jeno’s ear, “Don’t come back too early.”

“Don’t?”

“You’ve moved, haven’t you? To five years from now?” Renjun kisses his neck gently, trying to leave kisses everywhere, “Find me in your time–with the pocketwatch.”

“I will,” Jeno says. And he believes it now. Truly, genuinely believes it, “I will.”

Like clockwork, he pulls his own, silver pocketwatch free. He does as Taeyong’d advised, keying in the coordinates _and _Renjun’s pocketwatch identification number. There’s an unfamiliar chill that creeps up his spine; Jeno pauses. He’s never been afraid to Portal before, but–manually entering a coordinate and a pocketwatch number, he’s never done this before. It’s always only been one or the other.

_Once glitches are formed, it’s too late to be fixed. It’ll be out of our control._

“Jeno?”

There it is again. A total of three times Jeno has left and a total of three times Renjun has had that same puzzled expression. It crosses one of longing and anguish and Jeno doesn’t want it to be this way anymore.

“Jeno, what is–”

“I love you!”

Jeno very nearly breaks his own pocketwatch. Renjun flinches at his outburst, and it takes him two full seconds to register the words, for the words to sink into their skin. He breaks into a smile, the widest Jeno’s ever seen, absolutely enamored.

“I love you too,” Renjun says. He pushes Jeno’s hand away to make space for himself, pressing his lips to Jeno’s and his chest to Jeno’s too. It’s a different kind of kiss, one that Jeno prays he’ll be receiving for the rest of his life. “I love you, Jeno.”

And after far more kisses and hugs and _see you agains_–because either of them refuses to say goodbye–Jeno prepares to Portal once more. His thumb hovers the dial and just as he hits it, he sees of what could be: getting lost, creating a glitch, returning home. He sees of what could be, what he wants it to be: finding Renjun, kissing Renjun, loving Renjun. 

“I love you,” Renjun mouths.

The tingle of electric hits Jeno too quick and he scrambles for a final, “I love you.”

And then so, he goes.

For the longest time, Jeno is gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**2019**

“Thank you, have a nice day!”

Renjun sighs the moment the door is shut.

The jingle of the bell hanging from the handle quiets too.

He’d thought taking up a part-time job at a bookstore would be relaxing, but it’s far busier than it seems–customers asking for vintage copies, for specific editions, for more information Renjun doesn’t have the power of attaining. Honestly, he’s thankful to Jaemin for the recommendation, but it’s work harder than he thought it to be.

He pulls the gold pocketwatch from under his shirt, religiously checking the time, sighing when it reads that the end of businesses hours is still a full hour from now. He strokes the bloodstone with his thumb–a habit he’s taken on whenever he’s bored or nervous–enjoying the smooth, cool curve of it.

On the side of it is engraved _octo ex cordis. _

The eight of hearts.

Renjun sighs again, something he’s been doing quite often lately. Jisung’d told him this over dinner last week and Jaemin had swiftly kicked him under the table for it. As hard as his years have been, as his other lives have been, this year has been the hardest.

Because–it’s supposed to happen _this _year.

He’s supposed to come back.

It was January and snow was piling the streets; Renjun waited every day, spent his evenings looking out the window, hoping to see that familiar frame rushing up to his building. It was March and flowers started to bloom again; Renjun celebrated his birthday with Jaemin and Jisung, even though it’s lost its purpose and is now just a chance for them to make use of all the birthday offers they can get in the city.

It was July and the weather was terrible; Renjun bought dark chocolate ice cream and froze fruit popsicles, but they’d gone uneaten–they were never meant for him anyway. It was October and the streets were filled with spooky Halloween lights; Jaemin invited him over for a Halloween party at the law firm where he worked as an environmental lawyer. Renjun went as a prince in purple robes, hoped he’d meet a loving Traveler on the way home.

It’s December and snow is piling up on the street and it’s four days to the end of this year, and still–he isn’t here yet.

He promised he’d come back.

But he hasn’t.

He’s gone.

He’s been gone and he’s been gone a long time.

“Right,” Renjun says, to the now empty store.

It’s a tiny shop with rows after rows of standing shelves and even bookshelves for walls, filled to the brim with secondhand books, stuffed into every nook and cranny possible. There’s an odd smell to the place that Renjun’s now accustomed to, but it still makes his nose twitch every now and then. It used to be an antique shop, Renjun’s told, which explains the unacceptable layer of dust that seems to reappear no matter how often he tries to vacuum.

Still.

Sighing (he really should try and stop now), he unearths the handheld vacuum cleaner from under counter and begins on his rounds. It’s therapeutic, or at least that’s what he’s trying to convince himself it is, and Renjun loses himself to the muted whir of the machine. He starts from the back of the store, tries to reach the dust bunnies between the stacks of books on the floor, but it’s really _so _annoying to just have to move everything and–

The bell by the door jingles again.

“Welcome,” Renjun calls over the vacuum. “Please take a look around!”

There’s no response, but Renjun doesn’t think much of it. Most people these days rarely respond to greetings like that anyway. Distantly, he recalls the days of working at an expensive tea shop. The uniform he had to wear, the back-breaking bows he had to welcome with, the smile he had to plaster on his face.

Though, right now, he can’t say he wouldn’t prefer that over trying to get this _stubborn _dust bunny out of this little–

“Jun.”

If Renjun had been holding the vacuum cleaner any higher, it would’ve made a much louder _thwack _than it just did now. He shoots up from his crouched position in the corner of the store, nearly knocking into one of the precariously stacked books on the shelf.

“Renjun.”

In retrospect, Renjun should’ve thought about it first, maybe calmed down a little, before breaking into a full sprint to the counter, to the sound of that voice–_his_ voice.

Here, Jeno stands, silver pocketwatch in his hand. But his dark hair is gone. In its place is a platinum blonde that lodges a rock so far down Renjun’s throat, he feels it in his gut. And he distinctly remembers that this abomination of a tank top and ripped jeans aren’t the same ones he was wearing they last night they’d met–Jeno then had been in a sweater. His jaw is a sharper now too, and Renjun doubts it–it must be a hallucination.

He must’ve spent too many hours wishing for this time to come that it finally has in a form of some morbid incorporeal omen.

“Renjun, it’s me.”

The hallucination speaks, oh _god_.

“This can’t be happening,” Renjun breathes. He smacks his hand over his forehead, as if it’d knock some sense into him, “I’m dreaming.”

“You’re not, Jun.” And Jeno reaches for him and Renjun _knows_. The touch. Jeno smiles, warmly, “It’s me. and I’m here and so are you–you’re in my time, Renjun.”

“What?” Renjun gapes like a fish. His limbs work without thought, grabbing onto Jeno’s biceps, fingers pressing tightly into it, “_What_?”

“We did it,” Jeno gushes, exuberance dripping from his voice. “We did it, Jun. You’re _here_.”

Renjun blinks, “I’ve always been here.”

Jeno shakes his head, “Not where I’ve Portaled to. Since the last time we’ve met–it’s been years, Jun.”

“Years?” Renjun’s head clears, “How many years?”

“Enough for us to move thrice,” Jeno whispers. He hauls Renjun’s into his arms roughly, squeezing Renjun free of whatever breath he had left, “I can’t believe I found you, finally, Renjun.”

Hadn’t Jeno planned to Portal to him the last time they’d met? Does that mean he’d failed that first time? How did he manage it? What happened?

“I didn’t make it the first time, the first hundred times,” Jeno mumbles. Renjun loses feeling in his legs, stumbling under Jeno’s weight. He shoots an arm out towards the counter and steadies them both, other hand sinking in Jeno’s hair, “But I kept trying. I don’t know why, but the pocketwatch wouldn’t work then–it just didn’t. It couldn’t”

Oh.

“But I don’t know why it’s worked now, Jun–but Doyoung, Taeyong, Donghyuck, they’re_ here_. I Portaled here, but I called them first,” he takes a deep breath. “I saw advertisements and the dates and I knew I was in the right time and I had to make sure they’re here too and their phones _worked_–everything is working now. They’re at home, at the apartment, and I don’t know what’s happened, I don’t know how it’s finally worked, but it has and you’re _here_.”

Renjun’s heart threatens to crawl out of his chest, “You found me.” He sighs, one of relief, pulls Jeno off him enough to kiss him. In a whisper, against his lips, “You found me again, Jeno.”

“I told you I would,” Jeno grins. He snakes an arm around Renjun’s waist, and Renjun relaxes at it. Jeno’s here. He’s _here. _“I promised.”

“You did.”

It might very well be the light, but Renjun thinks Jeno’s eyes are brilliant under this light. They aren’t laden heavy by worries anymore, not like how they used to be. And as much as he wants to keep staring, he can’t do two things at once. He cups Jeno’s cheek and kisses him, tastes a hint of mint on the taller boy’s tongue.

“What does this mean?” Renjun says, once they’ve parted for air and caught their breaths. Jeno looks at him, lips kissed tender, “Does this mean you don’t have to leave anymore?”

“I don’t,” Jeno says. He rubs his hands together almost nervously, “Not until my family decides to move again.” Renjun hadn’t thought of that, “But we have time _now_, and I’ve asked them if we could stay. For longer than just five years.”

“Five years,” Renjun nods. That’s good. They’ve barely had a whole three days together–five years is a blessing. Relativity or not–he will have this be the longest five years he’s ever lived.

Jeno smiles when he tells him just that, “You really think so?”

“I do.” Renjun kisses him, “If we’ve figured the last century out, I’m sure we’ll find a way to live the next five years and the next five after that.” Though, “If you’ve found me now–” He pulls the gold pocketwatch from under his shirt, “This.”

Jeno stares at it, then at Renjun, “What of it?”

“I should return it to you, right? Now that you’re here, you don’t have to use it to find me anymore, do you?”

Renjun moves to take it off, but Jeno stops him, hand coming to close over Renjun’s. “It’s yours to keep,” Jeno says, “It belongs to you now. You don’t ever have to return it to me.”

Renjun, belatedly, finds himself thankful for that. He’s grown attached to the little thing.

“Do you have any plans tonight?” Jeno asks, after. The sign on the door is turned to _Sorry, we’re closed! _a half hour too early, but Renjun thinks it’s risk he can take in this life, “Dinner?”

“Dinner,” Renjun echoes.

“Doyoung’s cooking tonight,” Jeno says, bringing Renjun’s hand up to ghost his lips over the birthmark there. “You could join us tonight for dinner?”

Renjun has been waiting for this for too long to even pretend to think about it, “Okay.” He tidies up the counter hastily, reaches for his canvas bag hanging off the wall hook. Jeno offers him an outstretched hand and Renjun takes it, “What have I missed?”

Jeno laughs, “Nothing too huge, I don’t think.”

“Tell me anyway,” Renjun says.

He closes the lights and they leave the store, hand in hand for what feels like the first time in forever. Jeno leads the way down the streets Renjun’s already familiarized himself with; but he seemed to know it even better than Renjun did, a certain sureness in his step. He wonders if Jeno’d been here all along, but figures–after hours, days, years of Traveling, Jeno could do with not hearing about it for once.

After all, they have time now.

“Doyoung and Taeyong are getting married,” Jeno says. Then adds, “Finally. I mean, they’ve been married for years, but they’ve never had a ceremony because–really, who were they going to invite but Hyuck and I?”

They turn a corner, “Who _are _they going to invite?”

“We’ve met another family of Travelers,” Jeno says. “They were friends of Taeyong from another time. It’ll be a small ceremony, just family.” He glances at Renjun, “And you, if you’d like to come with me.”

Renjun halts, makes Jeno stop in his tracks, “Are you asking me to be a date to the wedding?”

Jeno’s cheeks pink, “It’s more like a lunch, really, and there isn’t even going to be an aisle, so it’s not really a _wedding _wedding–”

“I’ll go with you, Jeno, of course I will.” Renjun skips over a crack on the pavement, “It’ll be a date.” He squeezes their hands where their fingers are twisted together and Jeno leans close to peck him on the cheek, some Pavlovian conditioning that have each other on now, “What else?”

A pause, “I can’t think of any.”

Renjun looks at him, “You’re blonde now.”

“Oh.” Jeno touches it like it weren’t attached to his head, “Right. Donghyuck helped me with it. Said I’d look nice if I had a bit of a change.” He licks his lips, “Do you like it?”

Renjun kisses him, “I love it.” He cards his fingers into Jeno’s hair to make a point, muses, “You look very charming with it.”

“Charming?”

“Handsome, attractive,” Renjun lists, “gorgeous, stunning–”

“Alright, alright,” Jeno says, tackling him down when Renjun continues to prattle off compliments of his absolutely _ravishing _lover. He pins Renjun’s wrists with a hand, holding them to his chest, “You’re going to be teasing me forever, aren’t you?”

“For as long as you’ll have me,” Renjun beams.

Jeno kisses him chastely, “For as long as time.”

“Forever then.”

“And forever, I’ll love you–Huang Renjun.”

For how long has the name been etched in Renjun’s heart, he doesn’t know, but, “So will I, Lee Jeno.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry for any mistakes/loopholes; i tried to cover everything i could think of ;; 
> 
> here's an interesting link i found when i was researching on time and i am a giant loser so i wanted to share it, '[why time flies](https://www.maximiliankiener.com/digitalprojects/time/)'. as interesting and true as it is, it's also an almost terrifying realization ;; so here's a quote i'd like to end it off with - 
> 
> 'worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow, it only saps today of its joy’ (leo buscaglia)
> 
> thank you very much for being here ♡
> 
> title inspiration - [omen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fB63ztKnGvo), [lover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cvUAzpn48xA)


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